


Heart of the Matter

by Celandine



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blindfolds, Dirty Talk, Drama, First Time, Frottage, Infidelity, M/M, Masturbation, Rimming, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-01
Updated: 2010-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-12 10:51:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 86,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine/pseuds/Celandine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friendship of more than two years' standing between Kirk and McCoy takes some surprising turns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bullshit, Medically Speaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk really thinks McCoy needs to relax.

Throwing up on someone was not exactly the kind of action that McCoy would have expected to result in a friendship. He'd been smart enough not to eat for twelve hours before the shuttle took off, but it hadn't been enough to prevent that embarrassment. He figured that Kirk would disappear from his orbit as soon as they reached the Academy.

Yet Kirk had stuck around, though the two of them had little obviously in common except for their mutual status as cadets. McCoy was older, quieter, whereas Kirk shot through Starfleet Academy like a flaming arrow, anachronistic as such a simile might be: bright, sharp, and often dangerous to be around. Hot, as well, although McCoy tried to ignore that as much as possible.

"How many this week, Jim?" McCoy asked as they fell into step outside the library. Friday lunch had become their regular meeting time; not that they didn't see each other frequently, but this was the day that neither of them happened to have classes, labs, or other scheduled commitments over the lunch hour and therefore could count on eating together.

"How many what?"

Kirk's pretense of not knowing what McCoy was talking about would have been infuriating if Kirk weren't so obviously light-hearted about the whole business of seduction.

"Girls. Women. Whatever."

"Women are not 'whatever,' Bones," Kirk informed him. "Only three so far this week. I must be losing my touch."

"Hardly." McCoy glanced at his friend. "You _are_ using precautions, aren't you?"

"I go to the clinic every month for the contraception booster. I'm only shooting blanks, guaranteed. And taking all the STD vaccines too, before you ask." Kirk smirked. "I should think you would just read my medical records instead of nagging me about it."

McCoy cuffed him on the shoulder. "I only have your well-being at heart, you know."

"I'd rather see you have _your_ well-being at heart. When's the last time you got laid yourself?"

At least Kirk had lowered his voice slightly as they passed a pair of young female cadets, although he grinned and winked at them. One giggled, the other tried to look haughty but didn't quite succeed.

"I don't keep track the way you do," McCoy evaded.

Kirk shot him a Look, the sort that made it quite clear he didn't believe a word McCoy was saying, but didn't he press the matter. Not then. Not until they'd each chosen their food from among the dubious selections the cafeteria offered that day and found a table that allowed Kirk to ogle anyone coming in who took his fancy.

"We need to find you a date, Bones, and by 'date' I mean 'someone to sleep with,'" Kirk said. "No more of this prudish insistence that it be a relationship before you have sex. If you wait for that, you could be waiting until you die."

"I _had_ a relationship," McCoy growled, using the side of his fork to cut into what purported to be meatloaf and inspecting the bite dubiously before putting it in his mouth. Edible. Just. "I was _married_ ; in fact, I think that's practically the first thing I told you about myself."

"Well, being vomited on shortly thereafter _did_ rather push that piece of information to the back of my mind." Kirk chewed noisily on an apple. "I'm not saying you haven't had sex in the past, I'm saying you need to do it _now_."

McCoy sighed. "Has it ever occurred to you that not everyone is as keen on sex as you are?"

"No." Kirk held McCoy's gaze for a few seconds, then grinned. "Oh, come on. Of course I know that. I just think they're crazy... and that means you, too. So. Seriously, how long's it been? Since you divorced? Your dick will shrivel up if you don't use it."

"You _are_ aware that I'm a doctor," McCoy said. "Which means I know that your theory is bullshit. Medically speaking."

"And _non_ -medically speaking? Everyone needs to find a way to relax. Especially doctors. I've seen you after a bad day, Bones, so don't try to pretend you don't need to let off steam _somehow_." Kirk used a crust of bread to swipe up the last of his gravy, and popped it into his mouth. "Your own hand just isn't the same as getting it on with some willing pussy. And there is a lot of that around; all you have to do is go after it."

McCoy looked away as Kirk licked a crumb from his lip. "I appreciate your concern, but give this a rest. I'm a big boy and I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. The point is, you shouldn't have to."

"Damn it, Jim, can't you tell I don't want to discuss this?" McCoy stood up, grabbed his tray, and carried it to the hatch. When he turned around, however, Kirk was right there.

"Come to the bar with me tonight. You're not on duty, are you?"

"No," said McCoy grudgingly.

"So come. A bunch of us are going, and you can just get drunk. Or watch me getting drunk. Whatever." Kirk flashed his most irresistible grin, and McCoy couldn't resist it any more than any of the women on whom Kirk so often used it.

Besides, if he said no, Kirk would just keep prodding him to figure out why not, and he really didn't want the conversation to head that direction.

"What time?" he sighed, beaten.

"I'll swing by your room and grab you between eight and nine." Kirk glanced at the big clock on the wall. "Gotta run, see you then!"

McCoy's seminar on xenoviral mutations was in fifteen minutes, but he didn't have as far across campus to go as Kirk did. He walked slowly to the laboratory and reached it with minutes to spare, but he was distracted for the rest of the afternoon.

There _was_ always a certain level of amusement in observing Kirk at bars, he had to admit. The younger man was astonishingly good at picking up women, although he did also often manage to get himself into... well, a charitable word was "disputes," but McCoy preferred to call a brawl a brawl.

Tonight no brawls seemed in the offing, however. Kirk had towed McCoy in and stashed him at a table with a handful of other cadets before promptly going off to begin chatting up a blonde who was standing with several friends over by the bar.

McCoy watched as the flirting became more intense. Kirk bought the woman another drink; he told her a story (McCoy guessed it was the one about the motorcycle and the cows, based on Kirk's hand gestures – McCoy had heard all the stories many times); he let his hand rest casually on her hip. She laughed and didn't brush it away.

No question where things were going. McCoy was on his fourth bourbon now, eyeing Kirk and trying not to show it, making conversation with the other cadets about exams, especially the Kobayashi Maru test, which no one had ever passed. It wasn't for months, but some were already worried about it. Kirk claimed _he_ would pass it, but that was just his incredible self-assurance talking.

His damnably attractive self-assurance, now put once again to the service of seducing a woman whom Kirk would never see again after tonight.

McCoy couldn't bear to stay any longer. Weaving only slightly as he went, he made his way out and caught a bus back to campus; it wasn't that far, but he didn't feel up to walking.

His roommate was still out. McCoy shucked his clothes and stumbled into the tiny shower. There was nothing wrong with masturbation, he reminded himself. Physical relief was worthwhile on its own merits. He tried to push Kirk's face from his mind as he jacked off, but failed as miserably as he'd been failing for the past three years. His one comfort was that Kirk had never guessed.  



	2. Contents under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk wants to know why McCoy ran out last night.

From the bar, Kirk saw McCoy leave. Not surprising, if a little disappointing. He really had hoped that McCoy would let himself relax tonight, but the man was drawn tighter than a Vulcan's arse. Too bad. A nice, no-strings-attached fuck would do McCoy good, Kirk was sure.

He returned his attention to the blonde woman beside him – Alana? Alara? Adara, that was it – who had never even noticed his distraction.

"Shall we go to your place?" he asked.

Later, after Kirk was dressing to leave her room and return to his own, his thoughts returned to McCoy once again, and he frowned. Adara thought the scowl was directed at her and it took more sweet talk than Kirk would have liked to soothe her. It wasn't as though he planned to see her again – he could count the number of women of whom that was true on one hand – but he preferred to leave his bedmates happy. A good reputation was almost as important as a good line in scoring someone new.

Back in his own room, however, and trying to ignore the snoring of his roommate, Kirk continued to ponder McCoy's unsocial behavior. It wasn't that his friend didn't like to drink; hell, McCoy had shared his hooch not five minutes after they'd met on the recruit shuttle. All the cadets they'd been sitting with were friends, and McCoy wasn't one to quarrel at random while drunk, unlike Kirk himself, he admitted. So why had McCoy stalked out with a face like thunder?

Fuck it. He'd ask McCoy next time he saw him, push the man until he answered.

With that settled, Kirk punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape and fell asleep.

Saturday was his day to catch up on sleep and on studying. Kirk never set an alarm for Saturday morning; he normally slept until he woke, for once in the week, and then spent the remaining daylight hours working. Saturday night was another matter. Kirk knew a number of bars and clubs where he could almost always find a woman to go home with – occasionally even more than one.

Tonight he had planned to go to J.C.'s, which was his current favorite, but his curiosity about McCoy's behavior got the better of him. A little before seven he found himself in the medical clinic, waiting for McCoy to come off-shift.

"What the hell are you doing here?" was McCoy's ungracious greeting when he saw Kirk.

"Waiting for you." Kirk bestowed his most charming smile on McCoy, hoping it would work. "Since we didn't really get to drink together last night, I came to make sure we did tonight."

"And whose fault was that? I'm not the one who went and draped himself all over some random blonde two minutes after we got to the bar. No thanks, Jim. I'm not interested in watching you flirt again." A muscle jumped in McCoy's cheek. "I'm going to go home, have a couple of drinks all by myself, and go to sleep. It's been a shitty day."

Interesting that McCoy remembered she was blonde. "No, you're not," he said firmly. "It's a bad idea to drink alone, and I'm buying." He looked at McCoy, still in his scrubs. "You should change first, though. You look like hell."

"Gee, thanks." The sarcasm practically dripped from McCoy's tongue. "I suppose you're not going to give up until I say yes."

"Nope."

McCoy shook his head. "Fine. But on one condition."

"What?" Kirk nudged McCoy out the clinic door and headed them towards McCoy's room.

"No flirting. Not even that much," he added as Kirk's head swivelled to look at a passing cadet whose hair gleamed like copper in the light of the sunset. "You say you want to drink with me, you drink with _me_."

"Fair enough," Kirk agreed. He could manage to keep his hands and eyes to himself for an evening, he supposed. After all the point of this was to figure out what was bothering McCoy, and Adara last night had been quite energetic.

For some reason McCoy changed into standard uniform in the bathroom, tiny though it was, leaving Kirk to tap his fingers in the other room.

"We _could_ just stay here and drink," he suggested when McCoy emerged.

McCoy's expression went flat, but he said only, "Now that you've made me change, I'd as soon go out."

Instead of J.C.'s, Kirk chose Lelio's, which had a few booths and was not usually too crowded. They still had to wait for a while until a booth was vacated, standing at the bar in the meantime.

As he'd promised, Kirk paid for both their drinks, and by the time he was on his third bourbon and they had secured a booth – it was quiet, well, _relatively_ quiet there – McCoy seemed somewhat less irritable than he had done earlier.

"I suppose we really should eat something," Kirk said. "I seem to recall you lecturing me more than once about drinking on an empty stomach."

"That's true. Is the food here any good?"

"Pretty basic menu," Kirk said, "although their sweet potato fries are fantastic."

"I'll have a grilled chicken sandwich and sweet potato fries, then. You order if the waitress shows before I'm back," said McCoy, and disappeared in the direction of the men's room.

Kirk placed the order, getting a burger for himself, and quelled the desire to wink broadly at an exceptionally good-looking woman who walked past. He _had_ promised McCoy not to flirt, even if the bastard was taking forever to get back. And he knew that if he did, McCoy would return at exactly the wrong moment.

It took so long, however, that he was beginning to think that McCoy had actually left without a word when he slid back into the booth.

"Sorry," McCoy said, not really sounding sorry at all. "Did you order?"

"Yeah, I ordered. The food ought to be here any minute, in fact." Kirk cocked his head. "Did you fall in, or what?"

"If I'd fallen in, I'd be all wet, wouldn't I?" asked McCoy evenly. "Do you really want to hear the details, Jim?"

No, Kirk didn't. He'd have thought a doctor would know how to avoid constipation, or whatever it was though.

Perhaps luckily, just then the waitress brought their meals.

"You're right, these _are_ good," McCoy said, munching on a piece of crisp-edged sweet potato.

"I have excellent taste," Kirk told him with a grin.

"For some things, I'd agree."

"What would you say I have poor taste about?" Kirk felt only slightly indignant, three drinks and a decent hamburger having put him in a mellow mood.

"Oh, well..."

McCoy looked away. Kirk turned to see what he was looking at – the woman that Kirk had refrained from flirting with earlier. Hm.

"You're not saying that I have poor taste in women, are you?" Kirk demanded. That cut a little too close to home.

That elicited a snort. "You judge _women_ very well in at least in two senses. You pick the most attractive ones, and you seem invariably able to tell who's going to be willing to sleep with you."

"So I'm a poor judge of _men_ , then?"

"I wouldn't say that, exactly. Just that, as with women, you focus on what you see as useful to you. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, I suppose." McCoy sounded pensive. He pushed his empty plate away and signaled the waitress to bring them another round of drinks.

Kirk thought about it. McCoy probably had something there. When the fresh drinks arrived, he picked his up and clinked glasses with McCoy.

"Bottoms up. I hope you don't mind so much now that I dragged you here?"

McCoy shook his head and took a long swallow.

"Good. I wanted to ask why you looked so angry last night, and why you left early," Kirk said.

McCoy choked on his drink, coughing and spraying half the table. "For god's sake, man. Warn me when you're going to say something like that."

"What, asking how you were requires advance notice?"

"Well, yes. Jim Kirk, in my experience, doesn't do a lot of worrying over other people – not after the fact, anyhow."

"Hey," said Kirk, hurt. "You're my friend. Probably my best friend. Isn't it reasonable that I should be concerned if you seem upset?"

"Reasonable, just not likely, based on past behavior." McCoy shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I don't expect anything else from you."

Kirk studied McCoy as he took another drink, this one more successfully. Usually being baited like this would set Kirk off, but something about it struck him as odd. McCoy had managed to shift the focus of the conversation to Kirk's behavior, rather than his own, instead of simply answering the question. Which meant that there was something McCoy didn't want to tell him.

Time to push, then.

"Now that we've settled that this isn't my usual mode, can we return to the question at hand?"

"What question?" McCoy's expression strove for guilelessness, but Kirk wasn't fooled.

"Why you were upset last night. I dragged you along because I thought you could use a little distraction – specifically, sex – but I didn't actually make you do anything to find a girl, when it came down to it. I decided you'd appreciate being left to your bourbon instead. So why'd you leave so soon?" Kirk spelled it all out, since that was clearly the only way McCoy wasn't going to try to wriggle out of answering again.

"I don't think it's a good idea to discuss my reasons. Besides, it's none of your business."

"It is, too. I invited you, you came along, it was rude of you to leave without at least saying goodbye. Not to mention that if we're friends, and I've offended you somehow, you should tell me so that I don't do it again." This time it was Kirk who waved for more drinks.

McCoy heaved a gusty sigh. "You're not going to give up, are you? You _never_ give up."

"Not when it's something I want." Kirk saw McCoy flinch. "So, spill."

"You might say..." said McCoy slowly, and paused as a fresh glass of bourbon was set down before him. "You might say that I walked out last night because I _don't_ go after what I want the way that you do, and so was angry with myself when I saw you doing so."

Puzzled, Kirk said, "Okay, fine, but what was it you wanted and didn't go after? There were a lot of pretty women there, and I'd bet most of them would have been happy to go home with you, or take you home with them. All you needed to do was get up off your ass and talk to one of them."

"Jim..." McCoy rolled the glass against his forehead. "All right. I give up. I didn't want a _woman_ , can you get that?"

"You what?" Kirk stared for a moment, then pulled himself together. "Bones, you were _married_."

"So?"

"So..." Kirk floundered. "You mean, you're attracted to both women and men?"

It shouldn't have surprised him so much – after all, Starfleet Academy _was_ in San Francisco, and Kirk had seen first-hand why the city had had a certain reputation for more than three centuries – but somehow he'd never thought of McCoy as anything but straight, if basically celibate. McCoy had always seemed more interested in booze than in sex.

"You could say that." McCoy looked away. "More that I'm attracted to specific _people_ , regardless of their sex."

"Oh." Kirk was rapidly reassessing everything he had thought he knew about McCoy. "Gonna tell me who the 'specific people' are? I could help, maybe."

"No, Jim. I don't think you can."

And McCoy stubbornly refused to say another word on the subject that night, no matter how drunk he got or how hard Kirk tried to persuade him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For inell, who writes such wonderful Kirk POV fic.


	3. Resolved on Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy determines on a strategy to keep his secret from Kirk.

Damn it to hell.

McCoy's mouth tasted like a sewer, and his head was pounding so hard he thought for a moment that someone was actually banging on his door, but it was the memory of his conversation with Kirk last night that had him cursing as he returned reluctantly to consciousness.

He tried hard to remember the details, and went limp with relief when he was sure that he hadn't actually admitted that it was _Kirk_ in whom he was interested. He'd let slip that it was a man, yes, but that was all.

Thanking any god that might exist, McCoy swung his legs out of bed and headed for the shower to try to wake up before he went on-shift at the clinic in... fuck, twenty-five minutes. He could make it, but no time to eat. He'd have to grab an energy bar or something. Hopefully it wouldn't be as bad as yesterday, when he'd had to help treat the victims of a five-car accident, and lost one of them who had had severe head injuries.

The pounding headache diminished somewhat in the cold shower, and McCoy quickly washed down a couple of aspirin as well.

To his relief the clinic was not too busy. It _was_ a Sunday, but medical crises didn't always wait for the convenience of the standard work week.

A slow day at the clinic was both a good and a bad thing, McCoy decided after several hours. Although it was pleasant not to have emergencies and tragedies _all_ the time, it left him a little too much opportunity to think.

He was virtually certain that, having discovered that McCoy was interested in someone, Kirk would stop at nothing to figure out who it was, which meant that McCoy had better have a plan in place. As he analyzed it, there were three options.

One, deny it altogether, pretend that what he'd said last night had been untrue. He didn't think that Kirk would buy that, however.

Two, keep his mouth shut when Kirk prodded him to confess the identity of the man he was attracted to. That option was more feasible; the difficulty would be in resisting the persuasive abilities of James T. Kirk. McCoy wasn't certain how he was going to manage to do that, given that his track record on the matter was not exactly stellar.

Three, he could 'fess up and simply admit to Kirk that he'd wanted him for the better part of three years now. McCoy shook his head. Right. As if that would do any good with his rampantly heterosexual friend. McCoy had never even heard a rumor that Kirk had _ever_ gotten off with any man, though he'd slept his way through a large part of the ranks of the female cadets, plus a non-negligible number of civilian women as well.

His head shake drew the attention of one of the nurses.

"Is there something the matter with the patient, doctor?"

McCoy had to scramble to come up with some detail that would explain his reaction, but he wasn't sure it was convincing.

Completing the paperwork for that patient – and his mind, as it often had before, contemplated with bemusement the fact that although all the information was computerized, these days, it was still referred to as "paperwork" – McCoy was tempted to look up Kirk's medical history. The other day Kirk seemed to have assumed that McCoy would have done so, to check to make sure that he was keeping up with the appropriate vaccines, but McCoy was not Kirk's physician of record. Unless he actually had to treat Kirk for something officially, as opposed to patching him up after a bar brawl, it was dubiously ethical for McCoy to be looking at Kirk's records.

Now that he had thought about it, it was tempting indeed to do so. Those records would include Kirk's psychological as well as physical evaluations; McCoy could find out if there was any indication that Kirk might not be as straight as he seemed. But no. It would be wrong to do so. Until and unless Kirk asked McCoy to be his doctor, McCoy would keep his hands off and his eyes to himself.

He chuckled grimly, if quietly. Wasn't it the fact that he _couldn't_ keep his eyes to himself that was causing all the problems? He had kept his hands off, though, and planned to continue doing so, except in the unlikely event that Kirk indicated otherwise.

A glance at the clock told him that he had another four hours on shift. Thank goodness for that. Another four hours in which to decide what to do. He didn't particularly expect Kirk to show up at the end of his shift again and demand elucidation, not after McCoy had staved him off effectively last night, but it was good to be prepared.

If he admitted to Kirk that his feelings for the man were more than simple friendship, what were the possible responses? Kirk might be flattered, or disgusted. He might simply think it a joke and laugh. The chance that he would reciprocate McCoy's feelings was negligible enough not even to be worth considering, McCoy estimated. Furthermore, whatever his response, it would almost certainly alter the dynamics of their friendship, and McCoy didn't think he wanted to risk that. He _needed_ a friend like Kirk, someone whose personality was far more optimistic than McCoy's own. He needed someone to tease him out of his black moods, and Kirk had been doing that for years now just by being himself. The thought of losing his friendship turned McCoy cold.

No, the only real option was to hold back from telling Kirk any more, even though that too might put a strain on their friendship. On the other hand, there were matters that McCoy just did not discuss with Kirk, such as his divorce or his parents' deaths, and so if he held his ground long enough, Kirk might give up inquiring. McCoy rather doubted it, but it seemed the best chance. The difficult part was going to be holding to that resolution. When Kirk flashed his most charming smile, the one that made his eyes sparkle blue like sunshine on Gulf waters, McCoy would do almost anything that Kirk asked.

Not this, he told himself. You may find it difficult to keep your mouth shut, but you'll regret opening it even more.

One hour left. He began his final rounds, checking on each patient, ordering adjustments in treatment as seemed necessary. The activity kept him successfully distracted for the rest of the shift.

When he was preparing to leave, he was half-sorry that Kirk hadn't shown up, just so that McCoy could test his newfound resolve. On the other hand, Kirk would probably want to go off drinking again. It was astonishing how little time Kirk seemed to require for his studies, but McCoy had a test Tuesday on Starfleet regulations regarding civilian medical emergency assistance, and he, at any rate, needed to study.

Ensconced in the library and reading case studies, McCoy managed to push thoughts of Kirk out of his mind for the time being, but when the building closed and he returned to his room to sleep, once again he couldn't help pondering the situation.

Matthews, who was in the astrogation program, was out as usual – even with simulators, much of the astrogators' work was done at night – so McCoy had the room to himself. He puttered around for a little, reorganizing the books on his shelves since he didn't feel that studying any more that night would do him any good. That was one benefit of having gone through medical school before enlisting in Starfleet; he'd learned to recognize his limits and when he was simply unable to absorb new information.

All his thinking produced no new ideas. He determined once again that his best strategy would be to keep his mouth shut, whatever Kirk might do or say to convince him to spill the beans.

Monday he didn't see Kirk at all, which surprised him. They had no classes together that day, but usually passed on the central quad or saw each other in the dining hall at some point. McCoy wondered if Kirk was, for once, focusing on his studies, or if he'd found an exceptionally attractive woman and was spending more time with her than his usual several-hour encounter.

After his examination on Tuesday, McCoy found out.

Kirk was waiting for him in the hallway when McCoy left the classroom.

"I know you don't have any more classes today, and the clinic said you weren't on shift tonight," Kirk said cheerfully. "So come on."

"Where?" McCoy slung his bag over his shoulder. He'd planned to go to the gym after the exam, and brought his workout clothes with him.

"Not telling." Kirk gave him a shit-eating grin. "What's that? You won't need it."

"My gym clothes," McCoy growled.

"Ah, going to relieve a little tension? Nope, not now. You can leave them in my room if you want."

"No, I'll take them back to mine." Whatever it was Kirk had in mind, McCoy refused to simply go along with everything he said, even if he couldn't resist the man altogether.

Kirk shrugged. "Fine. Yours, then."

After McCoy left his things and they were back outside the dormitory, he turned to Kirk and said, "All right, now where?"

"I told you, it's a surprise."

"What, are you planning to blindfold me?"

"That's a thought." Kirk gave him a smirk. "No, Bones, we're just going to catch a bus, unless you feel like walking about three or four miles."

It took two buses to reach their destination: Ocean Beach. At this evening hour it was largely deserted and McCoy shivered in the chilly wind.

"Here." Kirk threw a companionable arm around him. "Sorry, I should've told you to bring a jacket."

"Yes, you should've," McCoy grumbled, trying not to react to Kirk's closeness. "Now what?"

"Have you been here before?"

McCoy shook his head. He felt slightly defensive that he hadn't been, but it wasn't as though he wasn't kept busy enough as a cadet and physician. Kirk, of course, managed to go _everywhere_. He didn't know how the man found time.

"Right. This way – we're going to the ruins of a place called the Sutro Bath House. It burned down like three centuries ago, and there's not much left, but there are bits of walls for some shelter from the wind."

"Why are we going there?" McCoy found this bewildering, not really in character for Jim Kirk as he knew him.

"I thought you'd like it. Watching the waves is very relaxing."

Privately McCoy suspected that Kirk had found and used the spot as a romantic destination, and wasn't sure whether to be annoyed that he was being taken to a place where Kirk had probably screwed half-a-dozen women over the last couple of years, or pleased that Kirk for once was thinking of what McCoy might actually enjoy rather than demanding they do something that Kirk liked.

"I'm still curious, you know," Kirk remarked after they'd sat in the scant shelter of a tumbled wall for a quarter of an hour or so, in silence except for the sound of the waves.

"Curious?" McCoy turned his head.

"About who it is you're interested in romantically." Kirk's teeth were white in the dim light when he grinned. "I have a few guesses though."

"I'm sure you do." McCoy made his voice as repressive as possible and looked away again, reminding himself once more to keep his mouth shut about the whole matter. If he admitted the truth to Kirk, an evening like this would surely never happen again... and he _was_ enjoying it, just as Kirk had said he would.

For a wonder, Kirk was quiet again after that. McCoy could feel the faint heat of his body, intermittently, whenever the light winds paused for long enough.

Eventually Kirk rose to his feet and pulled McCoy up with him, and they walked back to the bus stop and returned to campus, making idle conversation about nothing in particular until they reached McCoy's dorm which was closest.

"Bones..." Kirk shook his head.

"What?"

"Never mind. I'll see you later."

Kirk turned away and headed towards his own dorm with that inimitable indefinable gait that was neither a saunter nor a strut, but the movement of a man ready for anything.

McCoy watched Kirk go until he passed under the branches of a huge old tree and disappeared from sight. Then he swiped his card in the lock, noting absently that his hands were shaking. He went in and poured himself a double bourbon.

Damn, but that had been close. The silence had tempted him to break it, even more than Kirk's usual sort of persuasive charm might have done. McCoy swallowed another slug of the whiskey. He hadn't eaten any dinner, but he wasn't hungry. Instead he stripped off his uniform and crawled into bed, willing himself not to remember the closeness he had felt to Kirk only an hour before. He'd get over this, he had to.

There was no point in wanting something he couldn't have.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For emiime, just because.


	4. Process of Deduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk puts his mind to work to figure out who could possibly be the object of McCoy's affections.

Getting McCoy drunk hadn't loosened his tongue, was the problem. Kirk was still determined to find out just who it was that McCoy was interested in, however, and he thought that perhaps a different strategy might work. McCoy could stay quiet in a crowd at a bar, or when he had work to distract him, but alone with a silent Kirk – ah, then, he _might_ talk just to avoid the silence.

Kirk had initially visited the site of the old baths during his first year as a cadet. One night in a bar he'd picked up a townie who had apparently always wanted to have sex there, and persuaded him to go along with the idea. She'd been very enthusiastic, and the experience was good enough that Kirk had returned several times since with other partners.

He wasn't interested in McCoy that way, but familiarity with the place had suggested to Kirk that his friend might like it – and he wanted somewhere quiet where they wouldn't be interrupted by other people. If anyone else turned up there, they would doubtless be looking for privacy themselves, pretend not to have seen, and slip away.

The plan hadn't worked though. McCoy seemed perfectly content to simply listen to the crashing surf. Kirk had spoken once, to say that he had guesses as to whom it was McCoy liked, but McCoy hadn't taken the bait – and Kirk didn't really have the guesses he'd pretended to have.

He wasn't sure _why_ he was so determined to figure the answer out, except that it wasn't in him to walk away from a challenge.

Today, he decided, he would tackle it from a different angle, and try a little deduction and logic. McCoy _must_ have dropped a few hints at some point, right? Kirk's impression was that this was not some new infatuation, and if that were true, then surely there had been clues and Kirk had simply never noticed them.

Known facts first. The person McCoy admired was a man, that was certain, since McCoy had actually admitted it. Presumably a man associated with Starfleet Academy, since McCoy never left the campus grounds unless someone – usually Kirk – dragged him into the rest of the city for some reason.

Could it be an officer, one of McCoy's cadet instructors perhaps? As he headed to class, Kirk considered the possibilities, which distracted him enough that he missed a vital portion of a lecture on Vulcan diplomatic methods and had to ask one of the other students if he could borrow her notes later.

Luanna didn't take much persuading, and after a mutually satisfactory encounter that afternoon Kirk had the notes and could return to wrestling with the problem of McCoy's infatuation.

Probably _not_ an officer, he decided, although the fact that McCoy had said that Kirk couldn't help him meant that an officer wasn't totally out of the question, since he certainly didn't know any of them well enough to try to set up a date the way he might if it were a cadet. It just seemed out of character for McCoy to moon after one of his instructors; he wasn't the hero-worshiping type.

If it wasn't an officer, then it had to be one of the cadets. Kirk frowned. That wasn't a terribly helpful deduction. There were hundreds of cadets, so how could he narrow it down? He reached for his PADD.

"He says I can't help him with this," he murmured. "But I bet that I can... _if_ I can figure out who."

Calling up a list of all cadets enrolled, Kirk eliminated first all the women, then – after a moment's hesitation – those who were still in their first year, who McCoy could only have known for a few months. He'd go with his impression that the person McCoy liked had been around longer than that.

It took substantially more effort to remove from the list all those with whom McCoy would almost certainly never have had any contact, such as cadets whose programs of study meant they'd never have had classes in common with McCoy. Kirk had to track down what each individual was studying and compare that to McCoy's classes... and even then he couldn't eliminate them without _also_ first making sure that they'd always lived in different dormitories, so that McCoy wouldn't have gotten to know them through living in proximity, either.

He'd just finished that process when he realized something and smacked himself on the forehead. "Fuck." Any of the group he'd just eliminated could have been one of McCoy's patients at the clinic. There was no way to find out – Kirk didn't have the authorization to access those files, and he didn't want to risk being caught breaking into confidential data without a very good reason, something more than curiosity about his friend.

Now, wait; he had better think this through. _Would_ McCoy fall in love, or whatever he wanted to call it, with a patient? It wasn't unheard-of, Kirk supposed, although he rather thought doctors were more likely to become attached to their nurses, since they worked so closely with them. A patient would normally only be seen for a few minutes, perhaps half an hour or an hour at most on one or two visits, unless he had some chronic illness – and Starfleet Academy didn't admit cadets with major physical disabilities or uncontrolled illnesses. So a patient was an unlikely candidate. McCoy simply wouldn't have the contact time. Somehow Kirk didn't see McCoy falling for anyone based solely on looks; personality would have to play a role. McCoy was too serious for anything else.

The list of possibilities was still far too long to do Kirk much good, though.

"Time to _really_ get to work, Jim," he told himself. "Let's try another angle. Why would it be a problem for Bones to tell whoever it is that he's interested? Why the need for secrecy, not just from me but from that person himself?"

"Because he figures the man isn't going to be interested back," was the obvious answer. "That's the only thing that makes sense."

All right, why would someone be unalterably _un_ -interested in McCoy? He could be rather a Debbie Downer at times, that was true, and he drank too much for his own good – but so did Kirk, and so did a lot of other cadets for that matter. Drinking was unlikely to be the deal-breaker. McCoy was pretty good-looking, Kirk supposed, and he was in surprisingly good shape for a man his age who spent most of his time in the clinic or the lab when he wasn't actually in classes; lack of physical attractiveness couldn't be the issue either.

Kirk leaned back and put his feet up on his desk, his chair tipping precariously. If it wasn't a problem with McCoy, maybe the issue was with the other man, then. If he was married, say, or permanently attached elsewhere, or completely heterosexual...

The chair hit the floor with a thump.

"Well, fuck me," Kirk whispered, sure now even without any definite evidence. McCoy was forever making those snide references to Kirk's conquests, though he wasn't interested in the women himself. The other day when McCoy had stormed out of the bar, he'd remembered that the woman Kirk had been flirting with had been blonde, when there'd been no reason why he should have noticed or recalled that. It was Kirk himself that McCoy was interested in, it _had_ to be. Nothing else made any sense.

This was going to take some hard thinking. Not that he had any doubts about his conclusion, but what – if anything – was he going to do about it?

Well, what did he _want_ to do? With a shock, Kirk realized that he was actually somewhat curious about what it would be like to be with McCoy, though the idea had never before crossed his mind. He'd slept with more women than he could conveniently count – really, he ought to keep a list, but it was probably too late to recreate one now. But he'd never been with another man, never even considered it. Probably that was why McCoy was so certain Kirk wouldn't be interested back... but he was wrong. Just because Kirk had never done something before didn't mean he wouldn't be game to try it. He'd have thought McCoy would have known that, in fact, from all his remarks on Kirk's reckless behavior.

On the other hand – McCoy was the sort to take things seriously. That had been clear since the day they'd met, and Kirk doubted that sex was an exception to that rule. Serious was not something Kirk looked for in his sexual encounters; at least not in the sense of having them turn into anything more. Taking pleasure itself seriously was just fine with him. But if he ever did anything with McCoy... Kirk rolled his eyes. He couldn't see that ending well. If they had sex – and he didn't let himself linger on the details of _how_ , not yet – Kirk would probably be fine with once or even twice, as usual, before he moved on. A casual encounter would doubtless make McCoy unhappy though, and that would mess up their friendship. Then again, now that Kirk knew McCoy felt this way, he was bound to let the knowledge affect his behavior sooner or later, and _that_ could be a problem too.

"Damn it, Bones, why'd you have to tell me anything?" he grumbled, even if honesty forced him to admit that he was the one who'd pushed McCoy about needing to get laid in the first place, without which none of this would have happened.

He cleared all the information from his PADD and stood up. It getting late, and he had an eight o'clock class tomorrow, but a walk might clear his head, help him decide what to do. His roommate Sidhu looked up and nodded as he left; he was used to Kirk going and coming at all sorts of odd hours.

The air was cool and damp as Kirk strode across campus. The paths were well-lighted but he didn't stick to them, preferring to cut across the grass when he could. As he walked, the possibilities roiled in his head, disturbing him. Figuring out whom McCoy liked had seemed like an interesting challenge. Dealing with the conclusions he'd reached was another matter. The two of them had a great friendship: Kirk supplied the optimism and energy, and McCoy the stabilizing influence. They complemented each other. But this – this could destroy the balance of that friendship. McCoy must think the same too, or he would have said something long ago.

Kirk skirted the old science building and headed back toward the dormitories.

Was he sure that he was the object of McCoy's affections, though? He didn't have any real proof, after all, just some circumstantial evidence and his own gut feeling, which, granted, had rarely steered him wrong in the past, but maybe it was his own ego operating here, leaping to conclusions without justification.

He looked up at the building he was passing. Without even thinking about it he located the window to McCoy's room; there was a light on there still. He could go and ask, couldn't he? It would bring things out in the open, which he'd find more comfortable than all this speculation and uncertainty. If things were going to be cocked up between them regardless, he'd rather know the facts.

Taking a deep breath, Kirk tapped in the code on the intercom and heard McCoy say in his grumpiest voice, "McCoy. Who the hell is it at this hour?"

"It's me. Jim. Can I come up?"

There was a long pause, and then the buzzer sounded. Kirk quickly pushed open the door and headed up the stairs to the third floor and McCoy's room.

"It's open," McCoy said when Kirk knocked, so he went in, realizing belatedly that if McCoy's roommate were there, it would be impossible to hold the conversation he wanted to have.

Luckily Matthews was nowhere in sight, and there was no telltale light from under the bathroom door to suggest he was showering or otherwise using the facilities. Probably away making some astronomical observations, Kirk figured.

Without asking, he threw himself onto McCoy's bed.

"Is something wrong?" Now McCoy sounded concerned, not annoyed, and looked at him intently. "You didn't get yourself into another fight, did you? Your face looks okay."

"No, I'm fine. I just wanted to talk," Kirk said. "Something important on my mind, bothering me."

McCoy's expression turned wary. "It couldn't wait till morning? Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a psychiatrist, and it's after midnight."

Kirk ignored the protest.

"Is it me?"

The words seemed to hang in the air. For a moment Kirk thought that McCoy might try to pretend he didn't know what Kirk meant, but instead he closed his eyes tiredly.

"Yes." McCoy's voice was even wearier than his expression. "I should've known you'd figure it out, genius kid like you."

"I'm not a kid," Kirk started to object automatically, but McCoy was still speaking.

"I'm sorry. I won't let it make a difference in how I behave toward you. Just pretend you don't know and it'll be fine."

The smile McCoy offered was merely a stretch of the mouth, and it slipped away immediately as he turned back toward his desk.

Kirk watched him for several minutes. McCoy's shoulders were hunched forward and he seemed smaller than he was, sitting there.

"Bones," he said. "I just needed to know for sure. We'll talk tomorrow."

"I'd rather not. It won't make any difference," said McCoy, half to Kirk and half to whatever he was studying.

"Tough. We're going to," Kirk said, and before McCoy could object again, he left.


	5. Under Quiet Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk has insisted on talking, but McCoy dreads the conversation.

If only he hadn't let Kirk drag him to that bar last week – or if he hadn't left early and made Kirk curious about why he'd done so – then he wouldn't be in this position. McCoy sighed. He supposed it was bound to have happened eventually; he'd managed to conceal his feelings for the better part of three years, which was moderately impressive, considering how sharp Kirk was when he was paying attention. He'd probably only managed that long because the idea of having another man, a _friend_ , wanting to grope his ass was so foreign to anyone as hopelessly straight as Kirk.

And now Kirk wanted to _talk_. Insisted on it, no less. McCoy shuddered at the thought. He couldn't imagine a more wretched or painful conversation.

To give him credit, Kirk hadn't seemed as appalled as McCoy had assumed he would be at finding out that McCoy was attracted to him as more than just a friend, but McCoy sincerely doubted that anything positive could result from discussing the matter. It was unavoidable, however. He'd heard that stubborn note in Kirk's voice – a quality that McCoy admired, sometimes, but found exasperating equally as often.

 _Tomorrow_ , he'd said. McCoy rolled over restlessly in his bed, tangling the sheets. He sat up and flicked them smooth again, then lay back down and started mentally going through both his own schedule and Kirk's. If Kirk didn't race across campus after the command simulation exercises to catch McCoy when his afternoon class on synthesizing non-human tissues let out, McCoy might be able to duck into the library and lose himself in the stacks. He almost never studied there; Kirk wouldn't think to look for him in the library, surely, not before he had to go to his advanced self-defense class at six, and then McCoy could slip out again and be safe for another day.

Not that he could put off this conversation forever, he knew that, but perhaps just a little longer. Just until he could resign himself to the end of their friendship.

McCoy blamed the half-bottle of bourbon he'd drunk for the stinging in his eyes as he finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

The following afternoon, he looked cautiously around before stealing out a side door of the science building, and chose a route to the library that would mostly keep him out of sight from the central quad where Kirk was likely to be crossing campus.

He made it without incident and found a carrel tucked far back amongst the shelves of English literature. Why did they even _have_ English literature in the Starfleet library, he wondered to himself. It was hardly a field of study useful in training for space. Still, he didn't have to _read_ any of it – he had his PADD with him and could work on that – and Kirk would never find him here.

At six-thirty, when Kirk's self-defense class would be well underway, McCoy decided that he had better go find himself some dinner. The cafeteria was moderately crowded at that hour, but he managed to find himself an unoccupied table for two and sat moodily eating his anemic lasagne. Several of his friends tried to wave him over to join them; he shook his head each time, preferring to sit alone tonight so that he could eat quickly and get out.

He was prodding at dessert – it had been labeled as banana pudding, but it was nothing like the rich sweet custard that his grandmother had used to make when he visited her in Georgia – when Kirk's voice cut across his preoccupied thoughts.

"I figured you'd turn up here eventually, Bones," Kirk said cheerfully, turning the other chair at the table around and straddling it. "Nice of you to save me a seat." He folded his arms across the back of the chair and grinned at McCoy.

"Aren't you supposed to be learning to beat people up?" McCoy set his spoon down with resignation.

"Skipped class. I meant what I said last night, about talking – this is more important than self-defense." Kirk sounded unaccustomedly serious.

"Damn it, Jim," McCoy began to expostulate, then huffed out a sigh.

"Nope, I'm not going to give up," said Kirk, anticipating him. "But the cafeteria probably isn't the best place, is it?"

McCoy shook his head. "Let me get rid of this tray."

Coming back empty-handed, he asked, "You waited for me here?"

Kirk shrugged. "It was a pretty safe bet that you'd decide to eat sooner or later, and if I hadn't spotted you by nine or so, I was going to go camp by your room. I figured either Matthews would let me in, or I'd get someone else in the building to do it."

"Persistent bastard," grumbled McCoy.

"You know it," said Kirk with a dazzling, shit-eating grin. "So where do you want to go to talk?"

"Not my room," said McCoy firmly. "Matthews will probably be in tonight, he said something about a test tomorrow, so he'll be studying."

He also didn't want to have the memory of the ending of this friendship associated with the place where he'd have to keep sleeping for the next few months, although he saw no reason to share that with Kirk.

"I think Sidhu is going to be in our room," Kirk said. "So mine's out too." He seemed to hesitate. "Ocean Beach?"

It would be private, certainly, but on the other hand, there'd be that bus ride back together after... after whatever.

"Come on," Kirk urged, putting his hand on the small of McCoy's back to guide him. "I know you liked the place, it's very peaceful. We'll stop and you can grab a jacket this time."

"Oh, all right," McCoy sighed, as he tried to suppress his reaction to the touch. He found the appealing look in those blue eyes as hard to resist as ever.

They didn't talk much on the way to the ocean, watching their fellow passengers and listening to the squeak and rattle of the bus. The wind off the water was brisk when they alighted and McCoy was half-sorry that he'd brought the jacket, remembering how last time Kirk had put his arm around him to warm him, even if tonight that might have been a bad idea.

The ruined baths sprawled out near the edge of the water. Kirk led the way to the same spot where they'd gone before, sheltered somewhat from the breeze.

"We're here. Now what did you want to say so badly?" McCoy growled ungraciously, trying to disguise his apprehension.

Kirk looked younger even than he was, his expression oddly vulnerable in the clouded moonlight.

"How long have you felt this way about me?" he asked quietly.

McCoy froze. _From the moment I met you._ "Quite a while," he hedged. "I didn't want you to know. And you have to believe me, I never expected anything from you, not like that."

"Why not?" Kirk sounded genuinely curious.

"Why _not_?" repeated McCoy. "Jim, come _on_. You're the most notorious womanizer in our class. Hell, in the whole of the Academy, possibly in all of Starfleet. You're practically a legend– and always with women. I'd have to have an ego the size of – " _yours_ , he didn't say, "a _starship_ to think I'd hold any interest for you."

He studied Kirk's face a moment, and decided to lay the rest of his cards on the table. "And even if I _did_ interest you – you're not the monogamous type. I am. My marriage might have fallen apart, but I learned that much about myself in the course of it. So I don't see how we could ever get on together as anything but friends. If we can even manage to _stay_ friends after this."

"I hope we can," said Kirk. "I want to. I've been thinking about you a lot, the past few days, ever since the night I dragged you out to try to get you laid, and you weren't having any of it. Do you know _why_ I was trying to do that?"

"So my dick wouldn't fall off?" McCoy managed a smile, remembering what Kirk had said that night.

Kirk laughed. "Yeah. No, seriously. You're my," he swallowed, "my friend, Bones. Probably the best friend I've had in my whole life. You keep me from being _too_ reckless, most of the time anyhow, and when you can't it's not your fault. I appreciate that, I really do, even if I bitch about it. You make me feel like I can do _anything_ if I just go at it the right way.

"Hell, I was able to figure out it was me you liked, eventually, once I started working on the question. Pretty good to deduce a secret you'd been hiding for months, or years, however long it's really been; don't think I didn't notice that you didn't say. Anyhow. Since you're my friend, I wanted to get you to do something to make yourself relax and feel good, and I thought getting you laid would do that, since it does me. But I guess I was wrong."

"Yeah, I'm afraid you were." McCoy shifted his position. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and the cold stone was not the most comfortable thing to sit on. "I mean, I _like_ sex – or at least I used to." He grimaced. "It's been awhile since..."

"Since it was with someone else, not your own right hand," Kirk supplied.

"Left hand." McCoy flushed and cleared his throat. "What I meant was that it wasn't a _bad_ idea, in principle, just that the... implementation wasn't something that worked for me, that's all."

"Because it would have been a one night stand, and you don't do those, or because it wouldn't have been me?" Kirk asked.

The blunt question gave McCoy pause.

"I don't know," he admitted after he'd considered for a few minutes, glad that the dim light meant Kirk probably couldn't see the heat in his face. "I wasn't exactly thinking that clearly by that fourth glass of bourbon. Or before then for that matter."

"Okay." Kirk leaned back against one of the tumbled stones and stretched his legs out, for all the world like a coon hound getting ready to snooze on a summer night. "I have to ask you about a couple of things, here."

"What?"

"You've been with men before." Kirk didn't quite put it as a question, so McCoy waited. "I know what two guys can do, pretty much."

McCoy was almost sure that Kirk was blushing now too, though it was hard to tell in this light.

"What I want to know is, whether it's as good as with women?"

"That depends," said McCoy honestly. He'd only had sex with other men a handful of times in his life, all of them semi-drunken encounters, but two had been memorable indeed. And he'd certainly had sex with women, including his ex-wife, that was only moderately enjoyable – no more fun than jacking off by himself. Okay, but nothing special.

"On what, whether it's a serious relationship?" The tone of Kirk's voice was hard to identify.

"No." McCoy winced. "All that I've done with men was years ago, before I was married. Mostly random bar pickups, one-night stands."

"So then how do you know that you wouldn't be all right with a one-off with me?" Kirk asked in his most reasonable and persuasive voice.

"I _don't_ know, from that perspective, but when I was twenty-two I wasn't particularly inclined toward monogamy with women, either. That's something that changed for me over the years and I really don't think the sex of the person I'm attracted to makes any difference."

Kirk was quiet for a few minutes. Then he said, "If I was ever going to have sex with another man, you'd be the one."

McCoy swallowed hard. "I would?"

"Yeah, you would. But the thing is – you'd want it to be exclusive, wouldn't you, and I just don't know if I can do that. I never have. Every girlfriend I had back in Iowa broke up with me because I wouldn't promise not to sleep around. Just _flirting_ with other girls always pissed them off, and I sure as hell wasn't going to stop doing that."

"Why does that not surprise me?" McCoy asked wryly. "I didn't expect your current behavior patterns came out of nowhere."

"What I'm saying, Bones, if you'll _listen_ , is that since the very fact that you're attracted to me and I know it now is going to change our friendship, especially since it's made me realize I feel something of the same toward you, I'm willing to give us a chance to be something more. I just can't promise to be someone I'm not. So I leave it up to you." Kirk turned to face McCoy and raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. "If you want to try this..." He left the sentence unfinished.

For once Kirk was looking before he leaped – and McCoy could have smacked him for it, for now it was _McCoy_ who was in the position of having to plunge blindly, or know himself to be a coward, damn it, because if he was being offered something he'd wanted for so long, how could he say no simply because it wasn't _everything_ he wanted?

"Jim – " he began, intending to say that he would have to think it over a bit, but then Kirk put a hand on his leg and he stopped, trembling. He reached for Kirk's hand and threaded their fingers together. If Kirk could think things through, admit his limitations honestly, then McCoy ought to be able to seize the moment, right? All of this was turning them both upside down.

The pounding of his heart was so strong that Kirk could surely feel the stuttering pulse in his wrist as he said, "All right."

Kirk nodded slowly, almost seeming surprised that McCoy had agreed, and then he leaned forward and brought his mouth to McCoy's in a kiss that was everything McCoy had dreamed of and more. Kirk's tongue teased at his, prodding, exploring, sending waves of heat through McCoy's body, and he tried to give back as good as he got, although he frankly doubted it was possible.

"Here? Now?" Kirk drew his mouth away just far enough to speak.

"No," McCoy said quickly, denying his own urgency. If this _was_ going to end up as a one-shot deal, he wanted better than a quickie in a semi-public spot. He _deserved_ more than that, after all this time. Even if somehow they managed – if _Kirk_ managed, because by god McCoy would be more than willing to do it – to make this a relationship more serious than friends-who-fuck, he wanted the first time to mean something. "Not here, not tonight. Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, that'll work." Kirk gave a little grin. "Tomorrow's Friday – a week since I tried to get you laid."

"A week's delay is a lot less than I've had in recent months," McCoy noted. "Although for you, I suppose a _day's_ delay is a long time."

"It is, you tease. Is Matthews going to be around tomorrow? I don't know about Sidhu."

"I'll find out and let you know." McCoy kissed Kirk once more, then reluctantly stood up. "I have an eight a.m. class tomorrow with a quiz that I haven't finished studying for."

Kirk laughed and jumped up too, grabbing McCoy's hand and hauling him off toward the bus stop. "Of course you do. So have I. We'll meet at lunch as usual and figure out our plans then."

 _Our plans._ McCoy felt a smile spread across his face, unbidden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from the Duran Duran song "Finest Hour." Thanks to aome, who came up with the overall title for this story!


	6. Curtains Are Pulled Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk isn't accustomed to being nervous about sex.

Kirk couldn't quite believe that he'd actually propositioned McCoy, even if it _had_ been in an indirect kind of way, talking about their friendship becoming more. He was more nervous than he wanted to acknowledge about the whole situation, when it came right down to it.

Part of that was the whole sex-with-a-man issue. Kirk was used to being the one with a lot of experience, and when it came to men, he had none at all except for kissing McCoy last night. And, well, kissing was kissing, right? Not something that varied in essentials, since lips and teeth and tongue were pretty much the same no matter what gender the person was. He might have expected a man to be more forceful in kissing, but he'd known some awfully aggressive women over the years. Anyhow, he knew in a theoretical sense what two men could do to each other – _with_ each other – and he'd done most of those things with women at some point, but it didn't seem quite the same, thinking about doing them with another man. With his friend Bones. With someone he wouldn't be able to walk away from afterward.

And _tonight_ , fuck, it was going to be _tonight_ , if one of them was able to find a place where they could be private. He guessed he was glad they hadn't done much at the beach last night, although waiting was just giving him more time to get anxious about everything. Kirk much preferred making a decision and then carrying it out right away, without time for second guesses. He didn't _think_ McCoy was going to change his mind, but McCoy wasn't always predictable. He hadn't thought that McCoy would take him up on his offer, either, not after Kirk had warned him that he didn't expect it to become serious.

Serious or not, nothing would happen if he didn't figure out a _place_ for it to happen. Kirk stepped out of the shower, dried off quickly, and wrapped a towel around his hips before he left the tiny bathroom.

"Hey, Sidhu."

His roommate looked up. "Yes?"

"D'you have plans this evening? I mean, are you going out tonight, or are you going to hang around here?"

Sidhu rolled his eyes. "Planning to bring yet another girl back to the room?"

"I don't do it that often," Kirk protested. It was no more than the truth. Usually he went home with the women he picked up, rather than the other way around.

"True," Sidhu admitted a bit grudgingly. "I suppose I can vanish for a while. You haven't kicked me out of the room for over two months now, so I suppose it's only reasonable. What time will it be all right for me to come back? Is midnight late enough?"

"Could you make it one?" At Sidhu's look, Kirk added, "Please? Tell you what, I'll make a deal with you. Either next time you want the room to yourself I'll clear out for however long you need, with no fuss, or else I'll buy you a bottle of whatever you like to drink. Um. Up to a hundred credits, that is." He wasn't a _complete_ idiot; he'd seen thousand-credit bottles in locked cases in more than one fancy liquor store in the city.

"All right, one o'clock it is. I'll let you know whether I want privacy or booze later." Sidhu nodded. "And I'll be sure to be gone by eight tonight."

"Thanks. You're a pal," said Kirk gratefully, then looked at the time and yelped. "Crap. I'm gonna be late for class. See you later, thanks again!"

He grabbed his PADD, decided he didn't really need anything else this morning – he could come back to the room at lunchtime if necessary – and raced out.

It took some effort to concentrate on the finer points of strategy for achieving the upper hand in negotiations with non-Federation belligerents, although usually such a topic would have held his attention with no trouble. Kirk was good at negotiation with humans, generally, but non-human societies varied so much that all the information he could pick up would never be enough. Not that he'd probably be able to make use of it any time soon, but _someday_ he wouldn't be a cadet, nor even an ensign, but high enough in rank to get to do the interesting things. Hell, a lieutenant could be breveted to acting captain in an emergency, as his own father had been. Kirk pulled his thoughts away from that and returned to listening to Commander Joffrey, who was currently discussing the problems inherent in negotiating with a species which required a methane atmosphere. She had personal experience with just such a situation, and Kirk started taking notes again.

Noon saw him outside, looking for McCoy on the quad and finally spotting him.

"Lunch?" He clapped McCoy on the shoulder, just as he usually did. That was a mistake; the simple touch made him think about all the other sorts of touching that might happen that night, and suddenly he was nervous again.

"Of course." McCoy sounded irritable. Kirk hoped he hadn't thought better of his decision.

They went through the line, McCoy making snide remarks about the food, as ever. Kirk didn't care all that much what he ate, but McCoy was picky. Today he turned his nose up at some perfectly ordinary-looking fried chicken, and chose a bowl of vegetable soup and a toasted cheese sandwich instead. Kirk went with the chicken, mashed potatoes smothered in gravy, and cabbage slaw.

"Your arteries will clog," McCoy warned as they sat down.

"And yours won't, with all that cheese?" retorted Kirk cheerfully. He took an enormous bite of potato, swallowed, and said, "Sidhu agreed to make himself scarce, so my room will be free for us tonight."

"Jesus, Jim." McCoy glanced around.

"Come on, no one's paying any attention." Kirk didn't really understand why McCoy felt the need to be so cautious. They were both adults, unattached, and it wasn't as if it were the bad old days of the twentieth century when engaging in sexual activity with someone of the same gender was cause for dismissal or worse.

"It's not... oh, never mind. Fine. Whatever." McCoy bit savagely into his sandwich.

Kirk decided not to pursue whatever was bothering McCoy right then. Later, maybe. "So, my room?"

"Yeah, all right. Matthews will probably be off making astronomic observations again, but he was still asleep when I left this morning so I couldn't ask to find out for sure." McCoy frowned. "What time?"

"Sidhu's planning to be gone from eight until one. Not that we have to be there that whole time; we could go have a drink somewhere first, maybe."

"A drink would be good."

Something about the way McCoy said that made Kirk suspect that McCoy was just as edgy about the whole situation as he himself was, and he grinned in relief.

"Right then, we can meet at seven, go out to a bar, and there'll still be plenty of time."

McCoy nodded and returned his attention to his soup. By unspoken agreement they didn't discuss that evening's plans any further just then, instead exchanging bits of gossip and other meaningless conversation. That was one of the things Kirk appreciated about McCoy; they could talk about important and unimportant matters alike, and know that the other would listen.

Kirk had to make a class on the far side of campus, so he left the cafeteria a few minutes before McCoy, telling him that he'd stop by at seven. He was supposed to have dinner with some other friends first, but they weren't going anywhere special, just eating on campus together. Kirk had no doubt that he could come up with some spur-of-the-moment excuse not to go drinking with them after dinner, if he needed to.

He didn't. For once he simply sat near the edge of the crowd, and slipped away a bit before seven, heading for McCoy's room.

"Wanna go for that drink?" he asked through the intercom.

"Be right down."

McCoy appeared in less than two minutes, looking trim in his cadet uniform, now that Kirk was paying attention to that. Actually, McCoy was pretty hot. Kirk was used to admiring the tits and asses of the female cadets, but it had never occurred to him that the uniform trousers showed off guys' asses just as well. He'd have to remember that.

"Hi."

"Hi."

It was awkward, this knowing that they were going to have sex later, without going through the flirtation rituals he normally used.

"Anywhere in particular you want to go?"

"Not really. Wherever you want."

Kirk chose a bar that he didn't often go to, a seedy little place that was frequented mostly by townies rather than Starfleet personnel.

"Is this the Jim Kirk idea of discretion?" McCoy asked dryly after they'd ordered their drinks. "Going somewhere that no one will know us?"

"You seemed not to want anyone to guess, at lunch," Kirk pointed out.

"So I did." McCoy knocked back half of his bourbon in a single gulp and signaled the bartender for another.

"Easy, there." Kirk touched McCoy's wrist. "We have plenty of time."

McCoy raised his eyebrows, but he did slow down on the drinking. Normally Kirk wouldn't care, if anything would have matched him drink for drink, but he didn't want either of them to be too drunk to carry out their plans.

After the third round, Kirk was ready to leave. It would be nine, maybe later, by the time they made it back to his room as it was, and they only had until one.

"C'mon, Bones." He grinned at McCoy, then deliberately licked his lower lip and watched McCoy's eyes widen. "Let's get out of here."

He had already decided that he would take the lead once they reached his room. He might not have experience with men, but he still had a lot more _recent_ practice at sex – with someone other than himself – than McCoy did. Then... they'd see what happened. If McCoy wanted to do anything in particular, he could say so. Otherwise Kirk was happy to go with the flow of things.

As soon as he'd closed the door and turned on the lights to half-brightness, therefore, he tugged McCoy toward the bed.

"Thought you said there was no need to rush," McCoy grumbled, but there was a hint of laughter in his voice also and he followed willingly enough.

"Hey, you know me, always ready to learn something new," said Kirk, and kissed him.

McCoy was more responsive tonight; not that he hadn't been enthusiastic yesterday, but it seemed now as if he were focused more on what he was doing, making small sounds as their tongues met and explored. Yes, Kirk decided as McCoy's hands began to wander down his back, perhaps waiting had been the right thing to do. Whether it was the anticipation or the privacy, McCoy clearly had no idea of holding back now. In fact –

"Ow," Kirk complained as they rolled over and McCoy's foot encountered Kirk's shin. "Maybe shoes off, at least?"

"Good idea." McCoy sat up and removed his boots, setting them neatly at the foot of the bed.

Kirk did likewise, although he didn't bother to line his up. He flicked a glance at McCoy, verifying visually what he'd already felt, and then stood up to begin deliberately removing his uniform tunic and trousers.

McCoy watched, more intently than any woman Kirk could remember, until Kirk was down to his underwear.

"Fuck, Jim," he said in a low voice. "I always knew you were a pretty boy, but I didn't realize _how_ pretty."

"All those hand-to-hand combat classes." Kirk flashed his biggest grin. He didn't even mind McCoy calling him "boy"; he was used to his partners being complimentary, but the way that McCoy was staring, drinking in the sight, aroused him amazingly. It was hard to believe that McCoy had been able to keep his feelings a secret for so long.

"Maybe I should think about taking some then."

"I'll have to see you to judge that. Your turn." Kirk indicated McCoy's uniform. "Take it off, Bones."

McCoy looked a little embarrassed, but Kirk watched him undress just as attentively as McCoy had watched him. Like Kirk, McCoy stopped when he still had his underpants on, although they scarcely hid the fact that his dick was hard, straining the soft fabric. Plain classic white briefs, he wore, and they were surprisingly erotic given that with women Kirk found fancy lingerie a turn-on.

"Like what you see?" McCoy's accent was stronger than usual.

"Definitely," Kirk said, and reached for him.

Making sure his partners enjoyed themselves was one of Kirk's prime goals in sex, partly because he knew that a reputation for being generous in bed was the best way of convincing the next woman to come to his, partly because he liked the idea that _he_ made them feel that good.

With McCoy, he was on unfamiliar ground. Instead of a yielding breast under his hand, there was the firmness of muscle. Kirk held onto the thought that if _he_ enjoyed something, McCoy probably would too, and that gave him the confidence to start exploring McCoy's body without the hesitation he might otherwise have felt.

He ran his fingers along McCoy's chest, rubbing his thumb over a nipple that peeped through springy brown curls. He glanced up to see McCoy gazing back at him with a bemused expression.

"Don't you like that?" he asked.

"Yeah." McCoy drew a shuddering breath. "I just... I can't quite believe this is really happening. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up in the hospital and find out I've caught Rudellian brain fever and have been hallucinating all this."

Kirk laughed. "Would you hallucinate _this_?" He slid his hand down McCoy's stomach and cupped his dick through his briefs, squeezing gently.

"Unh. Maybe not," McCoy admitted.

"Well then, believe it's real." Kirk stroked him again.

McCoy caught hold of Kirk's wrist. "Jim, I have to know. Why are you doing this? You said last night that I was the only man you'd consider having sex with, but I don't understand _why_."

His hazel eyes were so dark as to appear almost violet as Kirk looked at him, trying to decide how to answer when he wasn't sure he _had_ an answer that would satisfy.

After a couple of minutes in which Kirk didn't reply, McCoy added, "Because I _know_ you. You like casual, no-commitment sex. With women. And that's fine, that's what you enjoy, and you made it clear yesterday that you're not promising me anything more than a chance – I just don't get why you're even doing that much, unless it's out of some misguided sense of pity. If _that's_ what's going on, I'd rather have nothing." His voice was harsh as he spoke the last words.

Kirk shook his head, rejecting the accusation. "It's not pity. You're right, I've always gone for the no-strings-attached situations in the past... but maybe, for once, I'd like to have sex with someone I actually care about, who cares about me, too."

The words spilled from his mouth almost without volition, but he realized he meant them.

"It's not an issue for you that I'm a man," said McCoy.

"No. Well, a little, maybe, because that's something new for me as well, but – I don't _have_ close female friends. There's no one I'm closer to than you, and I want you to be happy," Kirk ended simply. If McCoy thought that meant this was a pity fuck after all, Kirk couldn't do much to dissuade him.

McCoy said something under his breath, but refused to repeat it when Kirk asked, instead kissing him again with such intensity that Kirk was left gasping.

"Just let me touch you," McCoy murmured against Kirk's throat, and without waiting for a response, began to do so.

It was strange to be the one more on the receiving end of passion – not that Kirk didn't reciprocate, as much as he could, caressing McCoy wherever he could reach as McCoy touched and tasted him all over, ending by stroking him to a mind-blowing orgasm.

When Kirk could think coherently again, he realized that McCoy had already come too, rocking against Kirk's thigh.

"Hey," he protested, "didn't you think I could handle helping you out?"

"You can handle me another time," McCoy said. "Isn't your roommate due back soon?"

"One o'clock, was the deal. It's only about eleven."

"Closer to midnight," McCoy corrected him. "We should clean up."

Kirk made a face, but got up and found a towel, dampening it and using it to wipe himself off. He tossed it to McCoy to do likewise and turned up the ventilation.

"No, stay," he urged when McCoy had pulled his uniform back on and seemed about to leave. "We can play cards or something, if you don't want to talk."

McCoy rolled his eyes, but stayed to beat Kirk in three straight games of gin rummy.

"Is the coast clear?" Sidhu asked, walking in at a few minutes after one. "Oh, hello, McCoy. So you didn't get lucky after all, Kirk? You know you still owe me anyhow."

Kirk ignored McCoy's questioning look. "Luck is as luck does," he answered.

"I should go," McCoy said, and stood up. "I have clinic duty tomorrow."

"I'll drop by, maybe," Kirk told him. There was no maybe about it in his mind; he'd find out what time McCoy finished, and be there then, when McCoy couldn't claim to be busy.

"Good night, Sidhu. Good to see you. Good night, Jim."

And McCoy was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the Duran Duran song "Last Chance on the Stairway."


	7. Never Go Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy isn't sure what he wants, and Kirk's actions don't really help.

Last night he had quite deliberately not allowed Kirk to reciprocate. Not that he hadn't _wanted_ him to, hadn't imagined what it would be like to have Kirk's hands on him, Kirk's mouth perhaps wrapped around his dick, but when it came right down to it he was afraid to let that happen. For all that he knew intellectually that Kirk was very far from monogamous – he'd _seen_ it, for chrissakes, and Kirk had flat-out said it as well, just in case McCoy had had his head in the sand for the past two years and more – he had the terrible suspicion that if he let Kirk actually _do_ anything much to him, he would have that much more difficult a time coping with it when, inevitably, Kirk moved on to someone new. It was scant consolation that the someone new would doubtless be a woman, not another man.

Because McCoy had no illusions about _that_ , either. Kirk might be curious about what sex with a man was like, but his history suggested there was no way he would ever prefer it to sex with women, not over time. If that were the case, Kirk would have started having sex with men long since.

He hadn't let himself suck Kirk off for more or less the same reason; he obsessed over him enough as it was. Having a memory of that... no. Too likely to be painful. Moreover there was the small detail that McCoy hadn't given head that many times, and wasn't sure of his skill there, and Kirk doubtless had had some pretty fantastic blow jobs from women. McCoy didn't think he wanted to compete that way.

But he was wool-gathering when he ought to be concentrating on his patients. He turned his attention to the injury at hand, which luckily was just a simple fracture. One of the nurses could probably have handled it, if he weren't there. Nevertheless he welcomed the distraction of work.

After what Kirk had said last night, McCoy half-expected him to turn up in the waiting room at some point, but as the day dragged on he convinced himself that Kirk had only said that to say something, not because he'd really meant it. At the end of his shift, therefore, he was surprised to find Kirk waiting outside the building.

"Bored, Jim?"

"I said I'd stop by, didn't I?" Kirk widened his eyes guilelessly.

"Yeah," McCoy allowed, "but don't you usually work on Saturdays, catch up with all your classes?"

"I got up early today." Kirk shrugged. "I wanted to see you, but if you're busy..."

"No," said McCoy hastily. "That is, I have lab reports to finish for Xenovirology, but if you still have any studying to do, we could study together."

"Sounds good." Kirk gave him a sunny smile. "I _always_ have studying to do, you know that; hazards of completing a four-year program in three."

"And you still ace your classes, belong to the Xenolinguistics club, help _teach_ advanced hand-to-hand combat, and god knows what else." McCoy scrubbed a hand over his face. He had overslept, hadn't had time to shave that morning, and his beard itched.

"I'm treasurer of the club, actually," Kirk corrected, "but the combat instructor's kind of annoyed with me right now for skipping out Thursday night. I told him I wasn't feeling well, but I don't think he believed me. Do you suppose my doctor could write me a note of excuse?"

"I'm not your doctor," McCoy pointed out.

"You could be. I just have to put in a request to be transferred to you as a patient, right?"

Kirk was correct, of course. Cadets were randomly assigned to a physician upon arrival at Starfleet Academy, a purely nominal designation for record-keeping, and could choose a different physician at will.

"If you want." McCoy kept his voice calm. "But I'm not going to breach medical ethics to write you an excuse saying you were ill when you weren't."

"How do you _know_ I wasn't ill?"

"Come on, Jim, I was _with_ you on Thursday night. You tracked me down in the cafeteria and dragged me off to Ocean Beach, and you didn't show any signs of being less than perfectly well." _Not with the way you were kissing me._ McCoy glared. He was _not_ going to let Kirk persuade him into this. Kirk was the rule-breaker, not McCoy.

"I'm good at faking it." Kirk smirked. "I think you should at least give me a quick exam. If you don't find anything wrong, I'll come up with something else to convince Jiang to forgive me."

"Oh, for the love of pete. Fine. I'm off-duty, but fine, if that'll satisfy you. But then I really do have to go finish those Xenovirology reports."

As McCoy expected, the examination showed Kirk to be completely healthy, save for a few still-visible bruises on his ribs.

"Another bar brawl? How did I miss that one?" McCoy let his tone be acid, but he kept his hands gentle as he probed the old injuries.

"No." Kirk winced slightly. "Hand-to-hand combat practice _last_ week. Jiang was using me as a sparring partner to show the class a new move, and I didn't dodge fast enough."

McCoy entered the data into Kirk's file, and chewed over the thought that he now had the right to read all of Kirk's medical history, if he wanted. In fact, he really _ought_ to read it; a good doctor should know all he could about his patients.

"Well," he said gruffly, "a few contusions aren't a major health problem, but I suppose I could retroactively authorize some analgesics that would affect you enough to make combat practice unwise. I'll place a note in your file, dated Wednesday."

"Thanks, Bones. That's mighty kind of you," said Kirk with a grin, pulling his uniform tunic back on. "Now I don't want to delay you any longer from working on those lab reports. Tell you what. You go start on them, and I'll track down a pizza and bring it along. Sausage and mushroom, right?"

McCoy's stomach growled. He'd only eaten a stale egg sandwich and an apple all day. "Sounds good," he admitted.

"I'll be at your room in half an hour, forty minutes at most," Kirk promised, leaving McCoy on the steps outside the clinic.

Even forty minutes wasn't much time, not when McCoy had to trot back to his dorm and shower. That was part of his ritual to separate the doctor from the man. He'd begun doing so during his marriage, since his wife complained when he smelled of the hospital – the antiseptics, he supposed – and he'd kept up the habit even after the divorce. He shaved, too, realizing afterward that Kirk might think he had cleaned up just for him. Well, that couldn't be helped.

In a fresh uniform, McCoy sat at his desk to begin working on his reports, although he knew he'd have only a few minutes before Kirk arrived with the pizza. When he logged into his PADD, a message from Matthews popped up.

 _Off to the observatory on La Palma to use the Gran Telescopio Canarias. Back Monday._

So, no roommate. McCoy tapped his fingers, mulling that over. If he let Kirk know, then very likely Kirk would want to make the most of the situation. The question was whether that was what _McCoy_ wanted... and he just wasn't sure.

Then again, he'd half-promised Kirk yesterday that they would have sex once more – and if, as McCoy rather expected, that was the end of things between them, perhaps it was better that it happen sooner rather than later, to give him time to heal before the end of his stint at the Academy. He certainly didn't need to be distracted by his emotions when it came time to take all his final exams. McCoy sighed. He knew that Kirk was going to be able to persuade him, regardless of his own judgment. Kirk always could.

He had just gotten well into the first of the four reports he had to complete when the intercom buzzed, and he rose to let Kirk in.

" _Two_ pizzas? My god, man, how much do you think I can eat? Or _should_ eat?"

Kirk shrugged. "They were having a special, and cold leftover pizza is good. So the sausage and mushroom is for you, and I got the deluxe with everything except onions." He set the boxes on Matthews' desk, following them with a bag that he opened to reveal a six-pack of beer. "Better than anything from the cafeteria, right?"

"Definitely," McCoy agreed, although he reminded himself that he needed to finish the reports, and that had better take precedence over drinking or anything else, except food. His stomach was practically sitting up and begging at the smell of sausage. "Thanks, Jim."

"No trouble." Kirk flipped open a carton and looked around. "Plates?"

"Over there." McCoy pointed to a shelf. The plates belonged to Matthews, but he wouldn't mind.

Kirk piled a couple of slices on a plate and passed it over, then took a piece of his own. "There's enough for your roomie to have some if he comes back and wants any," he said indistinctly, sucking in air to cool down his first bite. "Or is he gone for the evening?"

"He's gone, yeah." McCoy cleared his throat. "In fact I had a message that he's in Europe and won't be back till Monday. Some sort of astronomical field trip, I guess."

"Is he, now." A gleam lit Kirk's eyes. "Good to know."

"Didn't you bring anything to study?" McCoy asked pointedly.

"Oh sure. Don't worry, Bones, you'll have time for your reports." Kirk took another slice of pizza and opened a bottle of the beer. "Want one?"

"Just one for now."

"I didn't figure you for a two-fisted drinker, not under present circumstances anyhow." He passed the bottle to McCoy and opened a second for himself.

After he finished his second slice of pizza and had drunk about half his beer, McCoy returned to his work. He was distantly aware of Kirk pulling out his own PADD and settling in at Matthews' desk. The reports were not difficult to write up; he had all the data necessary and it was merely a question of organizing it appropriately and adding a few paragraphs of explanation and analysis.

As he was putting the finishing touches on the fourth and last, he realized that Kirk was no longer sitting at the other desk, and looked up to see him reclining on McCoy's own bed, propped up by a couple of pillows, drinking another beer and watching McCoy work.

"What?" McCoy asked a little crossly, not liking the feeling that he'd been observed without his knowledge.

"Just wondering if you were close to being done," said Kirk, completely at ease. "I've done all that _I'm_ going to, tonight. In terms of studying, that is." His lips quirked, emphasizing the mild hint.

"One more to finish," said McCoy, and returned to it. He didn't hurry, though, still conflicted as to whether or not he wanted to go along with Kirk's obvious plan, although seeing Kirk sprawled in his bed was a definite temptation.

He was reading through the fourth report one last time before sending them all off to the instructor when he heard a slight creak from the bed, which he'd scarcely registered before Kirk's hands were on his shoulders, Kirk's breath warm against his neck.

"I can tell you're finished; you're not tapping away anymore," Kirk said. His thumbs dug into McCoy's trapezius muscles, easing the tightness there. "I believe yesterday you said something about letting me handle things for you?"

McCoy tried to relax his shoulders under Kirk's fingers, but it was difficult when his sheer proximity was making certain parts of McCoy's anatomy very un-relaxed indeed.

"I might have said something like that, yeah."

"Then come on." Kirk tugged him first upright, then over to the bed.

There was no point in trying to resist Jim Kirk when he wanted something, McCoy told himself. Kirk would give him that devil-may-care grin, and McCoy's resistance would crumble. Why even try to hold back in the first place?

Somehow Kirk had already managed to get mostly naked without McCoy noticing, and now he was methodically removing McCoy's uniform as well, dropping the tunic and trousers in a crumpled heap on the floor.

"At least you could put them on the chair," McCoy grumbled. "They're practically clean still."

Kirk rolled his eyes, but scooped the clothes up and draped them over the chair back. "Better?" he inquired.

"Yes, thank you," said McCoy, and then gasped when Kirk embraced him and drew him down onto the bed.

"You did everything yesterday. Now it's my turn," Kirk told him, and before McCoy could make any objection – if he'd wanted to – Kirks lips were pressed against his own, coaxing his mouth open to exchange deep demanding kisses.

After a while Kirk began to explore; when he bit and sucked McCoy's neck just below the ear, McCoy groaned. Kirk bit the same spot again, hard enough that McCoy was sure he'd have a bruise the next day.

 _Something to remind me,_ he thought with resignation. Kirk was moving on again, running his fingers through the hair on McCoy's chest and tugging gently at it.

"So different," McCoy heard him murmur.

McCoy brushed his fingertips over Kirk's forehead, smoothing back stray strands of hair, and Kirk looked up and smiled.

"Tell me what you want, Bones."

What McCoy _wanted_ was for Kirk not to be quite his own careless non-monogamous self. But that wasn't what Kirk was asking for, so McCoy offered up another piece of truth.

"Whatever _you_ want to do, Jim, I'll enjoy it."

He seriously doubted Kirk would even consider penetration – and he wouldn't want that anyway, not unless this was going to turn into something more than a couple of casual encounters. Even a blow job might be more intimate than McCoy could bear. He certainly wasn't going to request one. He expected Kirk to reciprocate the hand job McCoy had given him last night; Kirk had a strong sense of fair play.

"Okay, but you only have yourself to blame if you don't like what I do." Kirk reached for the waistband of McCoy's underwear, wordlessly urging him to lift his hips and sliding the fabric down and off. "You don't care if _these_ end up on the floor, do you?" he asked with a chuckle.

"No." McCoy found himself grinning back.

"Good."

Kirk pulled off his own briefs too, then rolled back so that the length of his naked body was pressed against McCoy's.

 _God._ It had been years since he'd been with someone like this. For the last eighteen months of his marriage, he and his wife had scarcely touched each other. To have it be Kirk... he swallowed hard and put his arms around him, his hands sliding along Kirk's back and down to his firm ass, pulling the two of them together.

"You feel good, Bones," murmured Kirk with a note in his voice that McCoy thought was surprise. "But I'm gonna make you feel even better." He began to rock his hips minutely, just enough to tantalize with friction through the slippery sweat beginning to dampen their bodies. His head dipped down, mouth attacking McCoy's neck anew.

McCoy closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, unable to resist watching Kirk writhing against him, gradually moving downward to bite at one nipple, then the other, leaving them tender as he descended further still. McCoy tensed. Was he – ?

Kirk's cheek brushed the head of McCoy's dick, scraping rough-smooth with the hint of stubble, and he looked up, blue eyes shining, put out his tongue and very deliberately _licked_ , just once, warm and wet and with no reserve whatsoever.

"Damn it, Jim," whispered McCoy hoarsely. "I never heard you were a tease."

"Just seeing what you taste like. Not bad," said Kirk, before he stopped talking and sealed his mouth around the shaft, taking in only half of it but McCoy was not going to complain about anything just now, not when Kirk had one hand rubbing the rest of McCoy's dick and the other hand fondling his balls, already drawn high and tight.

He _wouldn't_ come this fast; no matter how many years it had been since he'd been in such a situation, he wasn't going to let it end this quickly. His nails were barely long enough to let him dig them into his palms as he watched Kirk sucking him, but that distracted his senses just enough to keep him poised on the edge of orgasm.

As Kirk fluttered his tongue along the vein that beat on the underside of his cock, though, McCoy could feel the inevitable climax building.

"Jim – gonna come," he gasped in warning, but Kirk ignored him, sucking harder, his teeth grazing skin and swollen flesh until McCoy could hold back no longer, and gripped the sheets in tight twists as he spurted into Kirk's mouth.

He was dimly aware of Kirk pulling away; by the time he caught his breath Kirk was pressed against him once more, dick throbbing where it touched McCoy's hip as Kirk kissed him, feeding him the bitter-salt taste of his own semen.

"All right?" Kirk lifted his mouth away from McCoy's to ask.

"Fuck yes," said McCoy fervently, although one part of his mind was already bitterly regretting having let Kirk do what he'd done, because how was he ever going to forget it now?

"Good," Kirk said with almost indecent satisfaction. "Fast learner, me."

That provoked McCoy to a reluctant laugh. "You _do_ have the biggest damned ego, don't you?"

"Right now I have the biggest damned hard-on," corrected Kirk, "and I could use some help with it."

He took McCoy's left hand and guided it to his erection. "See? I remember you saying you're a lefty for this."

McCoy picked up the rhythm of Kirk's stroke, and together they brought him off in a series of pulses that splattered almost chin-high. Kirk collapsed against McCoy's chest for a moment, smearing them both with sticky dampness, before reaching over the edge of the bed and coming up with a pair of briefs – McCoy couldn't tell if they were Kirk's or his own – to wipe off the worst of the mess.

"That was good." Kirk's voice was thoughtful, but the next thing he said was, "I could go for another slice of pizza and maybe some more beer, how about you?"

McCoy shook his head, but after Kirk got up and sat, still naked, on Matthews' desk chair to gnaw eagerly at his pizza, McCoy decided that perhaps he was hungry again after all and retrieved himself a slice as well.

He couldn't think what to say or do, now, and Kirk seemed equally unsure, sneaking glances at McCoy over the edge of his pizza crust.

"I suppose I should be going," said Kirk at last, setting down his empty bottle and reaching for the uniform he'd discarded on the floor.

"It's getting late," McCoy agreed, although in fact it was scarcely eleven, and he knew perfectly well that Kirk often was out until one or two in the morning or even later. "See you tomorrow?"

"I'm going to be really busy tomorrow. Studying." Kirk didn't quite look at McCoy as he said it. "Maybe Monday."

"Sure." McCoy summoned up a smile. "Whenever. Don't forget to take your leftovers; you can have mine, too, for Sidhu. I'm not much for cold pizza."

When the door had closed behind Kirk, he went over to the bed, stripping the sheets and remaking it with fresh ones with a practiced economy of movement, shoving the old sheets into the laundry chute. Then he showered in water as hot as he could stand it, soaping himself almost savagely, over and over, until he was able to scour his mind as clean of thought as his body was clean of even a trace of what he and Kirk had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from the song "The Lesson of Love" by The Dream Academy.


	8. Fools Rush In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk tries to return to his old routines, and finds that it's not so easy.

The stacked pizza boxes loomed in accusation. Kirk ate a couple of slices for breakfast nonetheless, including one of the sausage and mushroom that he'd gotten for McCoy. He considered washing it down with the remaining bottle of beer, but drinking before eight on a Sunday morning came just a little too close to being an alcoholic for his comfort.

Not that his situation at present was comfortable anyhow. He hadn't _exactly_ been lying when he'd told McCoy he was going to be busy today, but he certainly could manage to see the man if he wanted to. He just didn't know if he _did_ want to, or how to act around McCoy now, after last night. Kirk swallowed. Never before had he understood why some women liked so much to give head; he'd always figured either they did it because they didn't want to have regular penetrative sex for some reason, or because they hoped to have him go down on them too. Which he did, usually, if they asked. It was only fair, and he liked it well enough although all things considered he'd rather put his dick there than his tongue.

Sucking off McCoy had seemed different somehow from going down on a woman, more different than just the anatomical details or even the taste. He had tasted his own come before, so McCoy's wasn't that strange. No, it was something indefinable – or at any rate something he wasn't prepared to define just now.

He showered quickly and started in on his work. There was always a quiz coming up in one class or another, or an assignment due, or a paper to write. He needed to choose a topic for the research paper for his course on the psychology of command, and found himself tempted to write on how various captains had coped with apparently no-win situations. He'd been browsing through the library's databases looking for ideas and had discovered Captain Pike's dissertation on the USS _Kelvin_ ; that topic would give him an excuse to read it. Not that he should _need_ an excuse, but he couldn't justify the time it would take to read the thing otherwise, not with all he had to do. Absentmindedly Kirk ate another slice of pizza.

Just before two o'clock he headed for the gym, where he apologized to Instructor Jiang for having missed Thursday's hand-to-hand combat class, and asked if his medical report had come through. It had.

"I realize that in non-training circumstances it could well be the case that I'd need to fight when already injured," Kirk said, "but I _was_ in some pain and my doctor recommended that analgesic. I'm allergic to most of the usual ones. I didn't realize until afterward that the side effects could include some disorientation and dizziness." He flashed the humblest, most apologetic smile he could muster.

"Next time, read the warnings _before_ you take the drug," Jiang grumbled, but he waved Kirk to take his place and began to speak to the class at large.

"All right, everyone, today we are going to simulate fighting after you've sustained an injury to your preferred arm. There are cloth strips in this basket; pair off and one partner help the other bind up his or her arm. We'll practice for thirty minutes, then switch. Once everyone is ready we will begin. Preferred arm, remember."

Kirk helped several students strap their arms before Jiang beckoned to him.

"You'll work with me, be the one with the false injury," Jiang said with a slight smile. "Think you can handle it?"

"Yes. It's not that challenging a simulation, really, since the 'injured' person doesn't have the use of the arm, but isn't in pain either," Kirk pointed out. He didn't bother to mention the many times he'd fought injured, in bar brawls; that would only cast doubt on the excuse he'd offered for having missed Thursday's class.

"True, but I doubt Starfleet would be pleased if we injured students deliberately." Jiang glanced around the room and called out, "If everyone is ready, let us begin."

By the end of the practice session Kirk was sweaty and pleasantly tired. He had fought Jiang briefly, just to show the students some possible moves, then worked with a number of pairs to help them with specific techniques. It had been a good class.

He showered there at the gym, putting on the fresh uniform he'd learned always to bring with him, before heading off to the Xenolinguistics Club meeting. Being treasurer was not _quite_ an honorary position, since he did have to collect the members' dues, but he'd managed to get everyone to transfer the requisite credits to the club account already this term and was able to sit back, relax, and ignore much of the chatter to ponder whether he'd ever be able to convince Cadet Uhura to tell him her first name. Presumably her friends knew it, but she must have warned them not to let Kirk find out. The club roster only listed surname and initial, and knowing her first name began with "N" didn't help much. Maybe he could make nice with her roommate sometime. It didn't really matter, but he hated an unsolved mystery. Kirk pushed aside the thought that the last mystery he'd solved had been the one about who McCoy liked, which had turned out, not _badly_ , but to be problematic.

"Paging Kirk," a voice broke through his reverie.

It was one of the other female Xenolinguistics students, not Uhura.

"You seemed a little out of it," she said as Kirk tried to remember her name. Herter, that was it. J. Herter.

"Late night last night," he lied with a grin. "You know how it goes."

"I've heard you're quite the party boy." Herter grinned back. "Care to come have a drink with me? We could practice our conversational Vulcan."

Kirk ignored Uhura, rolling her eyes from across the room. The club meeting was over anyhow. "Lead on, Cadet Herter."

"Jeanne," she said.

"Jeanne," Kirk repeated. "Lead on, Jeanne."

They had the drink, and then another, not in a bar but in her room, and matters progressed in the way Kirk had expected. The Vulcan language was not well-suited to seduction, in Kirk's opinion, but he managed by pretending to confuse the word for "undergarment" with that for "coat." He found that Jeanne favored pink satin lingerie, and he had plenty of chance to see it as he removed each piece.

Her brown hair fanned around her as she lay back, arms reaching for him, and he fell forward gladly. His mouth met hers as he caressed her breasts, their nipples hardening against his palm.

This was familiar, this was easy; he knew exactly what he was doing, how to provoke pleasure in Jeanne as well as himself. She was moist and welcoming around him as he thrust into her, and Kirk watched for the signals that would suggest she had reached orgasm: the flush of sweat-sheened skin, the quiver of muscles around his dick, the sound of pleasure groaned from deep in her throat. The sensations of the moment caught him up as they always did, and he came in a shining rush.

"You're as good as they say you are," Jeanne commented afterward, running her fingers along Kirk's chest as if to test how much effort he had expended by seeing how damp he was with sweat.

"Thank you," said Kirk shortly. He realized how ungracious his tone sounded and quickly added, "You were mighty fine yourself."

Her flirtatious smile left him oddly unmoved. Although he said all the appropriate things, he was glad to get dressed and leave. _That_ was not familiar. Usually he stayed for a while with the women he slept with, laughing and teasing and leaving them happy. Why hadn't he wanted to do so with Jeanne? She was an attractive woman, intelligent and funny, and the sex had been more than satisfying.

Kirk frowned to himself and ran his fingers through his hair. He was restless now, and didn't much feel like going back to his room and studying. It was dinner time but the cafeteria didn't appeal either. He didn't want to have to make conversation with anyone just then, and was especially leery of running into McCoy. Normally he'd have gone first to McCoy, not necessarily to talk about the odd experience with Jeanne but just to be with someone sympathetic, but after the past two nights that seemed far from a good idea.

Abruptly he decided to leave campus, go find some little restaurant for dinner by himself – Chinese, maybe, he knew several hole-in-the-wall places with tasty food – and then walk through the city for a while. Perhaps the exercise would calm him.

Full of hot and sour soup and Sichuan beef, Kirk wandered, sometimes taking a bus for a few blocks and then getting off again, not really paying attention to where he was going, until he realized he'd ended up at Ocean Beach.

Fog obscured the shore. Kirk made his way carefully through the roiling mist, heading toward the Sutro Bath ruins where he'd gone with McCoy. He sat on a damp slab of stone, put his arms around his knees, and listened to the waves hissing as they struck the rocks and slid away.

The crash of the surf and the swirling mist seemed to blend together, soothing Kirk's restlessness as the walking had not. He didn't try to think, just let the sound wash over him until the chill dampness of the air had him shivering too hard to remain any longer. Then he went home to his room.

For the next several days he avoided being alone with McCoy, talking to him only when others were around and keeping the conversation friendly but superficial. When McCoy wasn't looking at _him_ , though, Kirk watched the doctor. McCoy didn't seem much different from usual; perhaps a bit grumpier, but it was hard to tell. Kirk was relieved. The fact that whenever he wasn't carefully distracting himself, or clearing his mind altogether, he was constantly thinking back to their several encounters was Kirk's own problem to solve.

He assumed that his reaction to Jeanne had been a fluke. There had been other women in the past from whom he'd wanted to escape as soon as possible after sex, even when the sex had been good. Jeanne was doubtless just another of those even if he couldn't pin down why.

So he tried again, Tuesday night and Wednesday as well, going to bars and picking up another cadet one night, a townie the other. Both times he had similar reactions; he enjoyed the flirting, the thrill of pursuit, and the physical release, but afterward he felt as though something was missing, some satisfaction unachieved.

Thursday evening he went out again with a group of friends, including McCoy although Kirk wasn't the one who'd asked him along, Sidhu had. McCoy drank steadily, dismissing the suggestion that he slow down. Kirk watched him uneasily. When he asked McCoy if he needed help back to his dorm, McCoy sneered.

"I can find my own damned way home. Can you? Or do you just follow whatever pussy leads you on?"

He stood, swaying ever so slightly, but walked steadily enough to the men's room. When he emerged he headed for the door without another glance at the group of cadets.

"Do you think one of us should go with him?" Sidhu asked with concern. "I think he's drunker than he looks. I lost count of how many he had."

Kirk was still annoyed over McCoy's last remark, but hell, despite what had happened last week and whatever McCoy said, they'd been best friends since the day they came to Starfleet Academy, and he didn't want McCoy to get mugged while he was incapacitated, or to fall and injure himself.

"I'll go," he said in resignation. "See you later."

McCoy was already a block away, and Kirk hurried to catch him up. He was a little light-headed himself and had to pause and apologize when he accidentally bumped into another pedestreian. Then he took off after McCoy again.

"Wait up," he called when he was only a few yards behind.

"Oh, it's _you_." Disgust filled McCoy's tone. "Go away, Jim, I can get myself home, thank you very much. I don't need you as nursemaid."

"Not a chance," Kirk replied firmly.

McCoy rolled his eyes and continued walking. Kirk kept pace with him. They were only perhaps a foot apart, but it felt like a mile.

"Lunch tomorrow?" Kirk ventured when they reached the edge of campus.

Silence was his only answer until McCoy was standing before the door to his building.

"I don't know what it is about you," McCoy said then. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

"What I'm doing? What do you mean?"

McCoy sighed. "Evidently not. Jim, why do you want to have lunch with me tomorrow?"

"Because we always do, on Fridays. Because we're friends," said Kirk, confused. McCoy didn't sound nearly as drunk as he'd thought.

"Friends." McCoy's chuckle held a bitter tinge. "Right. And if I say no, you'll just pester me about it, won't you, bat those baby blues at me till I give in. Fine." He seemed almost to be talking to himself. "Lunch tomorrow. Lunch with Jim Kirk on Friday, as always. Why not?"

He fumbled open the door and let it bang shut behind him before Kirk could say another word.

All right, so they hadn't been on the best of terms this week, but _that_ had been downright rude, Kirk grumbled to himself as he made his way back to his own dorm. He was tempted to skip tomorrow's lunch altogether, but that would make him look like an idiot after he'd made such a point of asking about it.

When Kirk spotted McCoy on the quad the next day at noon, McCoy was in deep conversation with a woman whom Kirk didn't recognize. McCoy didn't introduce her either, just said, "See you Saturday," and watched for a moment as she walked away.

"Got a date?" Kirk asked casually on the way to the cafeteria.

"What? No. She's one of the nurses. God, you really _do_ only think about one thing, don't you?" McCoy sounded more sad than angry, despite his words.

"It was a natural assumption," Kirk protested, choosing a roast pork sandwich and taking green beans and an apple as well.

"Natural for _you_ , but given that I haven't gone out on a date with anyone since you've known me..." McCoy's shoulders rose and fell. "Never mind. There's an empty table. I'll grab it."

Kirk paused to pick up a glass of milk and followed slowly.

"Bones, I'm sorry I've been avoiding you this week," he said in a low voice as he set his tray down. He was pretty sure that was what was bothering McCoy, and best to get the apology over with and done and move on.

McCoy just looked at him, taking a bite of his chicken cutlet.

"I was a dick. I apologize."

"You have been, yes." McCoy set down his knife and fork. "I can't say I was surprised, but that didn't make it any better."

McCoy had _expected_ him to behave as he had? Kirk frowned and stabbed at a bean, uncertain what to say next, but McCoy kept speaking anyhow.

"Look, Jim. It was a mistake, this whole thing. I should never have been so careless in my behavior as to let you guess my feelings. You haven't acted like yourself since you figured things out last week, and I feel badly about that." McCoy looked down, picking up his fork again but not eating. "If this has fucked up our friendship, it's my fault."

"I could have left you alone," Kirk pointed out. "It was _my_ choice first to try to get you laid, and then to work out why you weren't interested in that. You can't take all the blame even if you want to. What's the saying, fools rush in where angels fear to tread? _I_ was the fool here, I rushed in without thinking that maybe you had good reasons for what you were doing, why you were keeping secrets."

"Whatever." McCoy shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. I let things slip, you figured them out, we did what we did and, well. You warned me, I can't say you didn't. I guess I couldn't quite put away hope, that's all. Twice is more than most women get of Jim Kirk; I should be flattered."

He looked defeated, sitting there, shoulders slumped. Abruptly Kirk decided to tell him the truth about what had been going on that week.

"About the women..." he began, but McCoy broke in again.

"I understand that you like women. It's normal. I don't hold it against you, believe me. When you made your offer I was astonished you'd even consider it."

"Shut _up_ , Bones." Kirk glared at him. "Just _listen_ for a minute, okay? Yes, I've always liked women, that's hardly a secret. But since last Saturday, I've been with three women –"

"Par for the course," McCoy muttered.

" _Let me finish_ ," snapped Kirk.

McCoy gave him a startled look, then subsided.

"Since Saturday, I've been with three women, and it wasn't the way it has always been for me. Not that I didn't enjoy having sex with them," he said, deliberately blunt, "but afterward, I didn't want to talk the way I've always done, just to round out the encounter, you know? Leave them feeling appreciated. All I could think about was getting out of there as fast as I could. _Three times_ , Bones. Once, even twice, could be a fluke. Three times says something's changed, and I don't know quite what or how, but I don't think the timing's a coincidence. I can't get _you_ out of my head," Kirk wound down.

McCoy sat very still. Finally he said, "Why do you think that's happening?"

"Because there's something about being with you, something that feels _right_ to me. You know all my weaknesses, and it's not that you don't judge them, or don't call me on them, because you certainly do that. I guess I feel like you forgive them," he added uncertainly.

"Not forgive so much as accept." McCoy's voice was quiet. "You are who you are, and infuriating as that can be sometimes, I admire you for it."

He took a deep breath. "But the thing is, Jim, I need stability. Not total _certainty_ – I'm a doctor, I know how unpredictable life is, and death – but honestly, I'd rather know that all you wanted from me was friendship, and be done with it. Sex is the icing on the cake, maybe, but I'm not one for too many sweets. I'd rather have honest bread. It's more nourishing anyhow."

Kirk cocked his head. "What if friendship _isn't_ all that I want, though?"

"Damn it, don't play games!" McCoy flushed, glanced around, and lowered his voice to repeat, "Don't play games, don't fuck with my head. I can't take it right now. Just tell me plain and simple what it is you _do_ want."

And that was the question Kirk had been avoiding answering all week... but when it came to the point, the answer was simple.

"I want you," Kirk said.

Honesty compelled him to continue, "I'm still not gonna make any promises, because, well, in my head rules are made to be broken. Even my _own_ rules. But if you still want to make this more than friendship, then I'll try my best to do what you want."

McCoy's throat worked. "I'll have to think about it."

Kirk's disappointment must have shown on his face, because McCoy said, "I'm tempted. I really am. But I have to think about whether for me the risks are worth the gain. This past week..." He shook his head.

"I understand," said Kirk, and he did, although he didn't like it. But that was McCoy all over, thinking things through where Kirk would have just rushed in like the fool he'd called himself earlier. It was surprising really that McCoy had unbent enough to have had sex with Kirk last weekend; the fact that he had gave Kirk hope that McCoy might decide to take another leap of faith this time. "Um. Not to pressure you or anything –"

"Because you'd _never_ do that," said McCoy sarcastically, but a smile tugged at his lips.

"– but there's some Asian festival, or I don't know what, this Sunday, and Sidhu's going to be gone pretty much all day, not back till evening," Kirk finished doggedly. "So _if_ you had an answer of the positive sort by Sunday, we could take advantage of the opportunity."

"I'll think about it," McCoy repeated, and glanced up at the clock on the wall. "You, by the way, are going to be late for class unless you get your ass out of here right now."

"Shit!" yelped Kirk, scraping his chair back from the table.

"I'll take your tray up to the hatch. Go on," commanded McCoy, and Kirk did.

Hurrying across campus, he determined not to bother McCoy for an answer until Sunday morning, if he didn't get one earlier. He could wait that long... with a little assistance from his right hand if necessary. Picking up a woman wasn't an option until he had that answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from Alexander Pope's "An Essay on Criticism".


	9. Decisions and Revisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy makes a decision.

He'd begged off going out to the bars both weekend evenings, citing his long Saturday shift at the clinic each time, but at eleven o'clock on Saturday night McCoy sat in his room with a glass of bourbon in front of him.

Matthews had been in their room earlier, but – to McCoy's unexpressed relief – had as so often gone off to measure the stars. Absently McCoy wondered why they still needed measuring. Surely the relevant data on all the stars that Starfleet was remotely likely to visit had long since been recorded, if not by humans, than by Vulcans or some other allied race? Perhaps astronomers kept on for the sheer thrill of expanding knowledge for its own sake. McCoy could understand that, even if he personally preferred research which had some potential for practical application. He snorted to himself and took a swig of liquor.

It was only his second glass tonight, a fact regarding which he gave himself ironic congratulations. While tempted to get drunk enough to pass out, he had a decision to make and the oblivion he desired wouldn't help him.

"Damn it, Jim," he groused aloud. Hadn't he had to cope long enough with his wife's unfaithfulness? Could he really trust a juvenile-delinquent pretty boy, who'd slept with half the female cadets at the Academy already, not to smash his heart once again?

The image of Kirk popped into his head, grinning that shit-eating grin, and McCoy smiled wryly into his glass. Hard to deny the appeal of such brash confidence... and one thing to the good, Kirk wouldn't lie about what he did, not about anything important, McCoy was certain of that. If he slept around, he'd say so.

A week ago, almost exactly, McCoy had been naked in this very room, that very bed, with Kirk's mouth on his dick. McCoy shifted in his seat, his left hand brushing over the bulge at his groin even as he took another swallow of bourbon. He stroked himself lightly through his trousers, remembering his surprise that Kirk had chosen to suck him off, the amazing native talent Kirk had demonstrated at fellatio, the mingled shock and pleasure McCoy himself had experienced with that orgasm. Oh, it had been everything he'd fantasized about for more than two years... until afterward, when Kirk had practically bolted from the room and ignored McCoy for the next five days.

Not the _worst_ five days of his life, he admitted that – he didn't want to think about which days those five were, but they all had to do with his family – but close, definitely in the top ten or twenty. He had assumed that Kirk had been retrospectively disgusted by what they'd done, but neither that assumption nor the fact that he hadn't expected more than a one night stand – and had in fact had two nights – had made much difference to his feelings of loss and anger when his friend had turned his back. Learning that Kirk had been as confused as himself had only made things more complicated.

What he had to decide, then, was if it would be worth it to try to build something beyond friendship with Jim Kirk. And he had to decide tonight. Well, no, he didn't really _have_ to, unless he wanted to "take advantage" of Kirk's roommate's absence tomorrow, as Kirk had put it. But for his own sake he wanted to have things settled, one way or another. He didn't want a repetition of the past week, during which he'd slept badly and found it difficult to concentrate.

His incipient erection had softened as he mused . He lifted his hips up enough to tug down his trousers and underpants to his thighs, then stroked his bare dick and sighed. With his thumb and two forefingers he made a circle around the shaft, rubbing in long strokes and giving a little twist each time he reached the head. Unbidden an image of Kirk came to his mind again, this time Kirk with his head flung back and hips parted as McCoy brought him to orgasm. McCoy bit his lip and stroked himself harder. He'd jerked off every day this week, more than he usually did in a month. He'd thought his sex drive had permanently diminished during the last couple of years of his marriage, but apparently not.

Climax tore through him fast and unexpectedly, relieving the physical tension to some extent but doing nothing to solve his dilemma. He sighed again, stripped down, and wiped himself off, tossing the dirty uniform in the laundry. It was late, no point in staying dressed when he'd be going to sleep soon.

He pulled on a pair of well-worn blue and white striped pajamas, a gift from his daughter for his birthday the year before he'd left. Sometime this week he should send Joanna a letter; her mother might be able to keep him from talking with her very often, but McCoy could still write. Mostly he wrote by electronic mail, but once in a while he did it the old-fashioned way, on paper.

As he was brushing his teeth, the door buzzer sounded.

"It's midnight," he snapped through the intercom. "Who is it?"

"I know." Kirk sounded almost apologetic. "It's Jim. Can I come up?"

McCoy was tempted to refuse. It had been a long and difficult day and he wasn't sure he could deal with Kirk right now.

"For a few minutes, is all," he finally growled, and granted access.

Kirk was, as McCoy expected, somewhat the worse for drink. although there were no marks as if from fighting on his face, nor did he reek of sex. Surprising.

"Thanks, Bones. Can I lie down?" He gestured toward McCoy's bed.

"Take your shoes off first," said McCoy with resignation.

"Okay." Kirk pulled off his shoes and flopped down on his back, one arm flung out to the side, the other draped across his face.

"Bones." His voice was muffled.

"What is it, Jim? I was about to go to bed, you realize. It's late, late at least for normal people, of whom you are demonstrably _not_ one."

"I hadn't seen you since yesterday," Kirk mumbled. "Hadn't heard anything from you. Missed you."

"Don't be ridiculous," scoffed McCoy. "There've been plenty of times when we haven't seen each other for nearly a week, except in passing."

"It's different now though." Kirk removed his arm from over his eyes and looked steadily at McCoy. "Isn't it?"

McCoy swallowed. "I suppose it is, yeah."

He expected Kirk to say something more, to push him about making a decision, but Kirk only lay there watching him as McCoy tidied up his desk.

Though he'd brushed his teeth, he paused when he picked up the glass he'd drunk bourbon from earlier and abruptly decided that one more might not be a bad idea.

"Want one?" he asked Kirk, a trifle huskily, and Kirk nodded, still sprawled out with that disconcerting stare.

When McCoy handed him a glass, though, Kirk sat up and leaned against the head of the bed to drink it.

"So why _did_ you come by, really?" McCoy said at last, after they'd each drunk perhaps half of what he'd poured. "Don't give me that tripe about missing me. It hasn't been thirty-six hours since you saw me last, and it's not as if you don't have plenty to do to keep you busy, and plenty of other people to hang out with. In fact I'd bet you were out with the crowd at a bar earlier, am I right?"

"Yeah." Kirk looked into his glass. "I, uh. I came on impulse, I guess. I was gonna ask you, you know, if you'd thought about things enough to decide if you wanted... if you wanted me. But when I got here and you let me in I knew I shouldn't ask, after all. You had your clinic work today, you haven't had a lot of time to think. So I'm _not_ asking. I should just leave."

Kirk swung his legs off the bed, swallowed the last of his whiskey in two gulps, and reached for the shoes he'd discarded.

"Wait." McCoy took a deep breath. "That's the most direct way of not-asking a question I think I've ever heard, other than from a patient who didn't actually want an answer anyhow, but it's pretty obvious that _you_ really want one, however much you're trying not to push me about it."

With his left shoe on, Kirk paused, the right shoe dangling from his fingers as he listened.

"I'm not easy to get along with. You know I'm a grumpy bastard. When I see someone doing something stupid, I call the person on it and I'm not tactful about that. I did badly enough as a husband that first my wife had affairs, and then she divorced me. At work I'll get focused on a problem and that's all I think about until it's solved."

"You're not saying anything I don't know," Kirk said. "I've seen a lot of that for myself."

"Sure, but it was one thing when we were just friends, for me to blow you off because I was busy and distracted. If we want to make this a relationship," the word felt strange on his tongue but there was no other he could think of, "then it's going to feel different to you, if you're expecting an evening of hanging out and having sex, and I'm totally uninterested in anything but how to engineer a new vaccine or some such. You're used to having sex pretty much any time you want, don't deny it."

"I won't," said Kirk solemnly, before quirking a grin, although his voice was still serious as he continued, "Look, we each have our faults, right? Our problems of whatever kind? That doesn't mean we can't each try to get past them, and maybe more important, try to forgive them. Accept them, like you said the other night. In what you said just now, you were trying to persuade me that you'd be bad for me. I don't think you would. Maybe it's hard for you to see or believe, but I'm less impulsive when you're around, and I know that's a good thing for me, if I ever want to make captain someday. Captain Pike told me that Starfleet needs more people who leap before looking, but there are still rules and regulations, and I'm not gonna get promoted if I don't conform to basic expectations, no matter how brilliant I am."

Typical Kirk ego, that last bit, but McCoy hadn't missed either the compliment to himself or the pragmatism in Kirk's statements.

What it all came down to, though, was his own weakness where Kirk was concerned. If Kirk offered more than friendship, after McCoy had wished hopelessly and secretly for exactly that for so long, there was simply no way he could refuse, however much he might wish on some level to protect himself. He had no real choice but to leap, this time, and hope that he'd land safely.

Kirk was waiting, still holding that damned shoe.

"All right, Jim." McCoy wet his lips. "We'll try it your way."

The biggest grin he'd ever seen split Kirk's face as the words sank in. Not the mischievous smile McCoy was used to, the one that said, "You cannot possibly resist me," but a smile of pure delight.

"Excellent." Kirk bounced off the bed, heading for McCoy, doubtless with something physical in mind.

"Hold on, there," McCoy held out a hand to stop him. "Matthews might come back at any time – he didn't say when – and I have to tell you that I'm beat. There was a major accident in the city today, a tour bus crash, and we lost five patients to head trauma before we could get them stabilized."

"Oh," said Kirk softly, calming down a bit. "Okay, yeah, I can see where you wouldn't be up for anything much after a day like that. And I came here and bugged you to answer me, too. I wouldn't have if I'd known. I'm sorry."

"I know." McCoy could practically see the sincerity rolling off Kirk in waves. "Don't worry about it."

"Want to have breakfast together tomorrow?" Kirk asked. "Remember, Sidhu will be gone most of the day... we could study, but make the studying fun."

"Yeah, I could go for that. Late breakfast? Maybe around ten? Seriously, I'm wiped out and could really use a good night's sleep if I can manage it."

"Ten o'clock's fine. Meet you in the cafeteria? They serve brunch till noon on Sundays and then we don't have to waste time going off-campus."

The brunch at the cafeteria was mediocre at its finest, in McCoy's opinion, but he _was_ used to it. "Fine."

Kirk put on his shoe at last and straightened his uniform. Then he leaned down and brushed his lips against McCoy's, a gesture oddly like a promise.

"See you tomorrow."

And then Kirk was gone, leaving McCoy to hope that he'd made the right decision... except that there really had been no decision to make, had there? He could stand up to – or slap down – Kirk on some matters, but not this one. If Kirk wanted him, McCoy would be there. He couldn't imagine anything else.

He drank the last swallow of his bourbon and rinsed out the glass, then brushed his teeth a second time.

In the dark, with the sheet pulled to his chin, McCoy curled up, sighed, and at last drifted off to sleep. Even Matthews's arrival some time in the middle of the night didn't disturb him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock."


	10. Like Riding a Bicycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Kirk's late-night apology, he and McCoy spend Sunday together.

"Have a great time," Kirk told his roommate.

"Thanks," said Sidhu. "It's a pan-Asian festival, actually, but there should be a lot of stalls and booths from India. Food and music and maybe dancing..." He trailed off and shook himself, grinning a little sheepishly. "I'll see you tonight sometime."

"Yeah, tonight."

As soon as Sidhu was gone, Kirk exhaled with relief. He'd been superstitiously convinced that something would happen to keep Sidhu around on campus, and he didn't want anything to interfere with his plan to spend the day with McCoy. Sure, they'd have to study part of the time – he'd more or less promised they would, and anyway he always _did_ have studying to do, what with cramming four years' work into three – but he planned to fit in a few other activities as well.

He looked at the clock. Not yet eight. It seemed surprising that Sidhu's festival was already underway, but Kirk didn't know much about Asian traditions. Or perhaps Sidhu had other plans first? Kirk shrugged, not really interested. Two hours of studying, then, before going to meet McCoy at the cafeteria, or perhaps a bit less. He ought to shower, he supposed, although if he didn't there was the possibility of suggesting a shared shower to McCoy. Not that it seemed likely McCoy would have neglected to take one; being a doctor he was kind of picky about hygiene. No, Kirk would shower. He could always make the suggestion anyhow if he wanted.

Kirk sat down, pulled out his PADD, and began rapidly to review his notes from last week's Xenolinguistics classes. He was glad that there was no club meeting this week.

"Damn," he swore, suddenly remembering that he'd have to go to the advanced hand-to-hand combat class in mid-afternoon. He couldn't skip it. Jiang was still a little annoyed from when he'd missed last week, and McCoy would never agree to phony up a medical excuse, not unless Kirk actually injured himself. Kirk hadn't thought McCoy would write the excuse last time, and then he really _had_ been injured, if not too seriously.

He'd have to keep an eye on the time today, that was all. Maybe McCoy would like to go with him, work out in the gym or swim laps perhaps if he didn't want to watch Kirk help with the class. McCoy had joked about joining the advanced class at one point, but Kirk was pretty sure he hadn't ever taken basic hand-to-hand instruction, so that was out.

At nine-thirty he stopped reading for Xenolinguistics and quickly showered, pulling on a clean uniform and checking to make sure his shoes were properly polished. God, he was acting as if this were a high school date and he was going to be judged by a girl's father. He and McCoy had been friends, best friends, for ages; even if they were trying to become more, McCoy was hardly going to care if Kirk's uniform was spotless and his shoes shining. Hell, McCoy always managed to look slightly rumpled, especially in his scrubs. It was a good look for him actually, made him seem more approachable, which a doctor should be to get patients to trust him. Kirk shook his head, bemused to realize how much attention he'd evidently been paying to McCoy's appearance without recognizing what he was doing.

He was a few minutes early arriving at the cafeteria, and a glance around showed him that McCoy hadn't arrived yet. He filled a plate anyway and found a table from which he could see everyone who entered.

By the time McCoy walked in, it was ten-twenty and Kirk had eaten most of his breakfast and was reduced to tearing an apple Danish into bits and popping them moodily one by one into his mouth.

"I'm sorry I'm late." McCoy set his tray down. He had dark circles under his eyes, Kirk noticed.

"Didn't you sleep well?"

McCoy shrugged. "All right. Just too long." He ate a forkful of egg.

"What do you want to do today? I have to go to the advanced hand-to-hand combat class at two, but other than that I'm pretty flexible."

"So I've heard."

It took Kirk a moment to catch McCoy's innuendo; it wasn't often that he did that kind of verbal teasing..

"More so than I used to be, actually," he said in a low voice, letting his eyes slide appreciatively over McCoy's body, his torso anyhow, what Kirk could see above the table. "Want a demonstration?"

"Later, I think, yes." McCoy spread jam on a piece of toast and bit into it. "Hell. Toast is supposed to be crisp, not chewy," he said with disgust.

"It did seem extra-leathery today. They probably made it a few hours ago. The potatoes were pretty good though, try those," Kirk told him.

McCoy nodded. "Harder to ruin potatoes unless you really undercook or burn them. Even mediocre ones usually aren't bad."

Kirk went to get another cup of coffee while McCoy kept eating.

"So what _do_ you want to do today?" he asked again when he returned.

"I'd kind of like to watch your combat class," allowed McCoy.

"Sure. There shouldn't be a problem with that. Like I said, class is at two, so we have a while until then. Shall we study first? I was working on Xenolinguistics this morning but I'm not quite finished."

"I should write Joanna." McCoy's voice was thoughtful.

"Your daughter?"

"Yeah. I'm not quite as regular about that as I should be," said McCoy. "Jocelyn almost always manages to keep me from talking to her in person, though, so I try to write instead. She likes 'real' letters, on paper, rather than electronic ones."

"You don't get to _talk_ to your daughter?" Indignation on McCoy's behalf practically choked Kirk. "How come you never told me that before? That's terrible. I mean, I didn't talk to my mother very often, but that was because she was working off-planet most of the time. _You're_ right here on Earth."

McCoy's cheek twitched. "It wasn't an easy divorce, and I agreed to some things that maybe I shouldn't have, not thinking them through, just to get it all settled quickly. Look, I don't want to talk about this, not now."

True, the cafeteria was not the best place for a serious conversation.

"Let's go back to my room," Kirk suggested. "You can write Joanna, and I'll study for a while."

Settled comfortably at his own desk, with McCoy at Sidhu's spotless one, Kirk kept looking over to watch McCoy writing. The scratch of pen on paper was more erratic than the familiar tapping on a keypad, and it distracted him. Plus, it was interesting to watch McCoy's expression as he wrote. There was a tenderness there that Kirk didn't recall ever seeing before; he quite clearly loved his daughter very much, even if he didn't talk about her often.

"What is it?" McCoy asked after a while. "Every time I glance up, you're looking at me. Did I spill ketchup on my tunic at breakfast or something?"

"Nope. Just thinking that you looked happy to be writing Joanna, that's all." Kirk pushed his chair back from the desk and stretched. "Are you done?"

"Almost." McCoy bent his head over the letter again. The metal of the pen glinted in the light as he wrote. He scanned the pages, nodded to himself, and signed it, folding the letter and putting it into the envelope he'd also brought. "I'll mail it tomorrow."

"I'm sure she'll be happy to hear from you," said Kirk. "I would be."

"You would, would you?" McCoy smiled slightly. "Well, then, I'll write you too, after we both graduate, and bore you to death with medical stories. Have to be electronic transmissions rather than paper, but I'll write."

"Maybe you won't have to. Maybe we'll be assigned to the same ship," Kirk said.

McCoy snorted. "'May bees don't fly in December,' as my grandmother used to say. I don't think you should count on that, Jim. How many human-crewed ships are there in Starfleet? Dozens, at least, and more all the time. The chances aren't good."

"I've always been lucky, though." Kirk grinned. "Want me to prove it?"

"Prove it, sure. There's no such thing as luck."

"Yes there is. _You're_ here. That proves I'm lucky," said Kirk, half-teasing but half-serious, too. He didn't really want to think about the possibility – the likelihood – that they would, in fact, be assigned to different ships next year.

"Oh, come on. You're too bright to say that. It's a logical fallacy and you know it." McCoy's face was flushed.

"Of course I know it, but I _am_ lucky even if that doesn't prove it." Part of Kirk believed what he was saying. Rationally he knew that McCoy was right, there was no such thing as luck, but emotionally was a different matter.

"Maybe you are, at that," said McCoy in a husky drawl. "You do always seem to get what you want, sooner or later."

"I know what I want _now_ ," Kirk said, "and I think you know too."

McCoy stood up. "I think maybe I do."

They moved together, a little hesitantly at first, but when their mouths met Kirk felt as if he'd come home. He traced his tongue across the seam of McCoy's lips, and they yielded to his exploration. McCoy still tasted faintly of coffee, but mostly of himself, and that sent a thrill through Kirk's body.

McCoy groaned when Kirk moved on from his mouth. It sounded to Kirk like pleasure rather than protest, so he continued. He sucked briefly on McCoy's earlobe before dipping to his neck and throat, licking and biting hard enough to leave a mark and eliciting another groan.

"Fuck, yes, Jim," McCoy breathed, his hands sliding along Kirk's back and latching onto his ass.

Kirk returned the favor, pulling them more tightly together. His dick was showing a lot of interest, swelling against the tight fabric of his trousers, and he could feel the bulge of McCoy's doing likewise. He stepped his feet a little further apart so that he could grind his hips against McCoy without falling over.

It felt good, more than good, to be wrapped together like this, kissing and thrusting against each other like teenagers in the back of a car. Kirk clutched at McCoy's shirt, tugging it up.

"I got it." McCoy pulled his shirt off, and Kirk was struck as he'd been before at how well-built McCoy actually was under that concealing standard uniform.

"Nice," he murmured, reaching out to touch and then twist one nipple.

McCoy flinched almost imperceptibly, but then he growled and pulled Kirk to him, almost ripping Kirk's shirt as he hauled it off.

"You are much too good at this," McCoy grumbled, though there was a note of laughter in his voice as well, and he turned them so that he could push Kirk down beneath him on the bed. "Oh yeah, _much_ too good." He pinched Kirk's left nipple hard, then his right, and Kirk gasped at the sensation.

"You're pretty damned fine you-yourself," he said, the last word trailing off into a groan as McCoy's mouth latched on to him, soothing away the sting of the pinches.

McCoy had settled himself with one knee to either side of Kirk's thighs, his arms bracing him as he crouched. He lapped slowly down Kirk's torso and Kirk tried to cant his hips upward in encouragement, but McCoy only chuckled.

"Not so fast."

Instead of continuing downward once he hit Kirk's waistband, McCoy pursued a leisurely path back up, mapping wet trails over Kirk's abdomen and chest with occasional excursions to his arms. Kirk writhed when McCoy nosed into his armpit, but the weight of McCoy's body kept him from escaping the tickling sensation.

"Bones!" he protested, and McCoy chuckled again. Kirk hadn't realized that he could be so devilishly determined.

He pondered, then without warning braced himself and flipped them over so that he sprawled – somewhat inelegantly – on top of McCoy, whose eyes widened in indignation.

"Gotcha." Kirk smirked at him.

"No you don't." Somehow McCoy had grabbed hold of him and rolled them over once more. "Cheeky kid, don't know what's good for you."

"What _is_ good for me, then? Tease."

McCoy cleared his throat, suddenly looking almost nervous. "I could suck you off –"

"Yeah!" agreed Kirk with enthusiasm, his mind already racing ahead to how McCoy's lips would feel dragging along the length of his dick, tongue flickering over the head. His blood bounded in his ears, almost keeping him from hearing the rest of McCoy's sentence.

"– or, um, you could fuck me," finished McCoy doggedly, his face flushed.

Kirk caught his breath and grasped McCoy's shoulders, looking deep into his eyes. "You're sure about that?"

"Yeah," McCoy muttered. "If that's what you want."

He hadn't really thought about it, hadn't anticipated such an offer although of course he knew that was a possibility, and it wasn't as if he'd never fucked an ass before. There'd been that Des Moines girl, Alicia Whatever-It-Had-Been, who'd transferred in his last year of school in Iowa. And the cadet from Rigel V. And, well, anyhow, it wasn't an entirely new idea by any means, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to do it with McCoy. Why not, he couldn't quite say, given that McCoy had offered freely and repeated the offer when asked, even if he seemed a bit uncertain about it. Maybe it was just knowing that there'd be other times, other opportunities. Kirk brushed a fingertip along McCoy's jawline. "No, Bones. Thanks, but not today, I don't think. I'd rather have those sexy lips around my dick."

McCoy's eyes widened, and Kirk thought he saw a hint of relief there as McCoy nipped at his finger.

"Right, then," he said hoarsely, and supported himself with one hand so that he could kiss Kirk while the other fumbled at his trousers. Kirk helped, the two of them wrestling the fabric halfway down Kirk's thighs.

Then McCoy slid inch by inch along Kirk's torso, scraping him delightfully with teeth and stubbled cheek – Kirk's mind was distracted for a moment, thinking about how fast McCoy's beard grew, and wondering if he'd actually shaved that morning or not – until his breath was hot on Kirk's belly, and at last, _fuck_ , his tongue was wet and slick as he slurped his way down Kirk's dick.

Kirk groaned and scrabbled at the bedclothes as McCoy swallowed him down. McCoy's technique might be a little rusty, but he was _there_ , indisputably, totally concentrated on what he was doing to Kirk as he knelt with his ass in the air. One hand felt over Kirk's balls and then behind, rubbing with gentle pressure. Kirk let his legs spread apart a little further, and McCoy's hand went away for a moment, then came back, fingers wet – McCoy must have licked them, thought Kirk hazily – one fingertip stroking until Kirk relaxed enough for McCoy to slip it inside.

"Fuck – _Bones_ ," Kirk choked out.

McCoy glanced up at him, cheeks hollowed as he sucked a little harder and wiggled that insinuating finger. His eyes were dilated, half-lidded as he concentrated on giving Kirk pleasure, and this time Kirk didn't feel so odd about letting him do it.

He grunted obscenely and thrust into McCoy's mouth, unable to stop himself, already feeling the crest of orgasm rushing up through him. "Coming," he gasped, but he was unsurprised when McCoy stayed on him, tongue moving to coax out every last drop and then licking him clean, nuzzling against him as if to mark himself indelibly with Kirk's scent.

"Fuck," Kirk swore again. "Where'd you learn to suck cock like that, anyhow?"

"Ole Miss – the University of Mississippi," McCoy answered, his accent stronger than usual. "A one-night stand my sophomore year... one of the best nights of my life. Marmaduke Cecil Montgomery, his name was, but he went by Duke. Bio major, transferred out the next year."

Kirk felt a momentary and wholly irrational flash of hatred for the unknown Duke, before reminding himself that _he_ was getting the benefit of it now.

"So it was all right?" McCoy was asking. "It's been a mighty long time since then."

"I guess it's like riding a bicycle, you don't forget," said Kirk. He reached for McCoy, hauled him up and close and kissed him, bitter now with Kirk's own come on his tongue, but still tasting of himself underneath, and that was something Kirk couldn't get enough of.

McCoy made a noise in his throat, kissing back hard and rocking against Kirk's thigh. Somehow he had managed to get his trousers off without Kirk noticing, which was all to the good at the moment.

"Relax. I'll handle it," Kirk broke off the kiss to say. He reached for McCoy's dick, smooth and warm and pulsing against his palm, and watched McCoy's face as he started to stroke.

"Wait – here," said McCoy, taking Kirk's hand and licking it wet. "Too much friction."

"There's lotion," Kirk offered.

McCoy hesitated, then nodded. Kirk untangled himself and padded to the bathroom to get the bottle, settling back onto the bed with a palmful of lotion, smoothing it over McCoy's dick.

"Yeah, oh _yeah_ ," said McCoy in a low voice, touching Kirk with trembling fingers as Kirk jerked him off.

He took it slowly; no need to rush, there was still time before he had to go to the gym, and it was good to watch McCoy get sweaty and flushed, to hear his ragged breathing as Kirk coaxed him along the road to passion. McCoy went rigid when he came, his head tipped back but his eyes open and fixed on Kirk as his come wetted Kirk's fingers and splashed both their skins.

Kirk kissed McCoy's temple, salty-damp with sweat, and McCoy sighed and rested his head on Kirk's shoulder, taking long liquid-sounding breaths.

"Thanks," he said in a muffled voice, and Kirk laughed.

"I think I'd have to thank _you_ as much or more, if it comes to that."

"Yeah, well." McCoy put one hand on Kirk's stomach, caressing just below the navel. "I guess it's mutual then. When is it you have to leave? Had we better clean up?"

"In a few minutes," said Kirk drowsily. Strange, he didn't usually feel sleepy after sex. He tightened his hold on McCoy and let himself doze, the scent of him soothing.

"Jim."

Kirk grunted as McCoy's elbow nudged him. "Wha' is it?"

"Your class is at two, right? It's a quarter of right now."

"Crap." Kirk was sticky with dried semen and sweat, but there was no time for a shower. He ducked into the bathroom and used a dampened washcloth to wipe off the worst, then rinsed it out and tossed it to McCoy to do the same as he hastily found and pulled on his gym clothes and shoved his discarded uniform into his bag. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he waited for McCoy to finish putting on his shoes.

"Ready?"

They jogged over to the gym. Kirk spoke briefly with Jiang to make sure it was all right for McCoy to watch, then waved at him to sit by the side of the room.

The class did a few minutes of warmup stretches, after which Jiang demonstrated a new kick, as usual taking Kirk as his partner to show how the move could be used to disarm an opponent. Afterward Kirk helped a number of students master the kick, flirting almost automatically with the women. He had never asked out a combat student – he might only be an assistant, not the official instructor, but he knew perfectly well all the rules against inappropriate fraternization – but the flirting was second nature to him. After a while, though, he noticed McCoy watching with a scowl and toned it down. It didn't bother him to do so, really, since he wasn't serious about any of the women anyhow.

At the end of the class, he grabbed his bag and headed toward McCoy.

"I usually shower and change here," he said, "but we can leave right now and I'll shower back in my room, if you don't want to hang around. How did you like watching the class?"

"It was interesting," said McCoy. "I'm used to fixing you up after brawls, and I've seen plenty of those, but what you all were doing here was different from the kind of fights I've seen. More like dancing than anything else."

He poked Kirk in the chest with his forefinger. "You, my friend, need to learn to actually _use_ these moves you practice, in a real fight. You might do better that way."

"Ow." Kirk rubbed the spot on his sternum. "That's the point of the class, actually – make all this so automatic that I don't think, I just use whatever's necessary. The thinking – _over_ -thinking – is what makes me lose."

"You're telling me." McCoy rolled his eyes.

By now they had reached Kirk's dormitory.

"Did you want to come back up?" Kirk asked, holding open the building door.

"I did leave some things in your room," said McCoy.

As they walked up the stairs – it was hardly worth it to wait for the ancient elevator when his room was only on the third floor – Kirk suspected that McCoy was watching his ass, so he shook it. McCoy smacked him lightly.

"Oh, you like kinky games?" Kirk teased, glancing backward, and McCoy scowled.

"In your dreams."

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact."

He didn't say any more until he had let them into his room.

"Sidhu said he wouldn't be back till evening, and it's only about four," he ventured while he watched McCoy collect his belongings, including the letter to his daughter.

"I know, but so far today hasn't exactly been good for me for studying, and I need to get some solid work done," McCoy said.

"Just stay for half an hour?" Kirk put a plaintive note into his voice. "Half an hour, doing whatever you want to do. Studying, even."

"Oh, _Jim_ ," said McCoy in exasperation."All right. Half an hour."

McCoy set his bag down and made as if to open it, pull out his PADD again and study, but then to Kirk's surprise he tugged the zipper shut once more. "Forget it."

He came over to Kirk and put his arms around him, sweaty though Kirk was, still in his gym clothes.

"I hated to interrupt your little nap, earlier," he said into Kirk's ear. "How about trying that again?"

Kirk didn't think he felt sleepy now, after the stimulation of the combat class, but he wasn't unwilling to kick off his shoes and let himself be drawn down onto the bed with McCoy. He could feel the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of McCoy's heart, the slower rhythm of his lungs in counterpoint, as they lay close together.

"Computer. Set alarm chime for thirty minutes from now," he roused himself to say, and heard the rumble of McCoy's chuckle.

"Good idea."

"All of my ideas are good," said Kirk smugly, if not altogether truthfully.

"Mm. Sure they are." McCoy's hand stroked along Kirk's back. "Sure they are, kid."

For the next half-hour, the room was quiet.


	11. Out of the Gossip Loop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy wants to keep their relationship private.

It was official, then. He was in a relationship with Jim Kirk.

Not _official_ , McCoy retracted mentally. They weren't announcing it to all and sundry. Or he didn't think so. Fuck. He didn't _want_ the rest of Starfleet Academy to be gossiping about him, and if people learned that Kirk was suddenly trying for monogamy, or exclusivity or whatever the hell he wanted to call it, then Kirk's partner – himself – was going to be the subject of a lot of speculation.

Especially if Kirk didn't actually manage to stick with the monogamy thing.

McCoy scowled and cursed under his breath. He _really_ didn't enjoy the idea that he might become known as the person who'd tried, and failed, to put a leash on Kirk.

"Something wrong?" asked Matthews from the other side of the room.

"I, uh, just remembered I'd forgotten to read the assigned material for a class tomorrow," lied McCoy, and fumbled for his PADD. He stared at the screen unseeingly as his thoughts raced.

He didn't want to keep things quiet because Kirk was a man rather than a woman. There might be a few raised eyebrows among their friends, given that McCoy had an ex-wife and had been essentially celibate since his arrival here, with one or two drunken gropes the only exceptions. That Kirk had only ever shown interest in women, and a great deal of such interest at that, also made the whole thing unlikely but – as the facts demonstrated – not impossible.

But two men together was common enough in general. Kirk wouldn't assume McCoy was atavistically prejudiced in that way if McCoy asked him not to talk about their new status. Hell, hadn't Iowa been one of the first places in the United States to make same-sex marriage legal, way back in the twenty-first century? Kirk had grown up with that. Not that it wasn't legal in Georgia, too, but what Yankee law said and what the neighbors thought didn't always coincide. McCoy's great-uncle Quinn had married a man, though, and the McCoy family had always accepted Jackson as one of their own.

He was losing control of his own thoughts, damn it. It didn't matter what was legal or what folks in Georgia thought, it was the potential for embarrassment that concerned him. What he had to do was convince Kirk to be discreet, so that the gossip would be minimal or nonexistent, but how?

McCoy chewed his lip, thinking. He could just tell Kirk the truth about how he felt. That might be best, although persuading him that McCoy really _would_ be bothered by having people talk about him might be tricky. Kirk didn't ever seem to mind gossip unless he thought it would affect his Academy records. That could be chalked up to his ambition, partly, and to his not-inconsiderable ego too, but McCoy also suspected that Kirk was trying to measure up to his father. He didn't know much about the late George Kirk, only that he'd been a Starfleet lieutenant, then acting captain of the _Kelvin_ for a few minutes before his death, at the very time Kirk himself was born.

Hard to live up to something like that, McCoy knew. Thank god his mother hadn't given him his father's name. McCoy'd known far too many Juniors and Treys who'd wasted their lives either trying to be just like their daddies or rebelling against them. Kirk had enough issues as it was, with that ex-stepfather he barely mentioned, and always without any expression at all.

Damn. He was distracted again. He'd just ask Kirk. It would be easiest, anyhow, but he'd better do it soon. Kirk hadn't shown any particular inclination to brag about his conquest of McCoy, but neither did he normally keep quiet about such things, should anyone happen to ask.

He sent a message to Kirk, asking if there was a time they could meet tomorrow, and received a reply within minutes.

_Sure thing, Bones. Cafeteria at 6 for dinner work for you?_

McCoy responded, _I have a clinic shift till 9. After that?_

 _I'll be there at 9_ , Kirk answered.

He was as good as his word, bouncing with nervous energy on the sidewalk outside the clinic as McCoy emerged on Monday night.

"Mind if we go to my room? I really want to shower and change, get out of these scrubs," said McCoy.

Kirk grinned. "No problem, especially if Matthews won't be there."

"I don't know if he will be or not. I've never managed to figure out what his schedule is this term; it seems to change all the time," said McCoy. He stifled an impulse to take Kirk's hand as they walked. The whole _point_ of the conversation he was planning was to ask Kirk to be discreet, and he could hardly do that if he indulged in public displays of affection himself.

He left Kirk sprawled on his bed and chatting with Matthews as he showered – the astrogation student had evidently heard some gossip that the new flagship, _Enterprise_ , was supposed finally to be ready to launch about the time their class was due to graduate. Some of them might be lucky enough to be posted to it, if the timing worked out.

Toweling his hair, dressed in a fresh uniform, and feeling almost human again despite being tired after his clinic shift, McCoy reemerged to the sound of the other two men chuckling together. Kirk looked over.

"Ready, Bones?"

McCoy blinked, then nodded, folding his towel and draping it neatly over the back of his desk chair. Whatever Kirk had in mind to do, they couldn't have the conversation McCoy wanted here in his room in front of Matthews, so he'd go along.

"See you later," he told his roommate, and Matthews waved them out.

"Have a good time, guys."

"So where are we going?" McCoy asked Kirk as they left the building.

Kirk shrugged. "We could go for a drink, I suppose, or down to Ocean Beach if you'd like, although it's a bit of a trek. Or just walk around campus or something; Sidhu's in tonight, too. I figured you might not want to hang out in either of our rooms."

"True enough." McCoy glanced sideways. Kirk seemed relaxed and happy, grinning flirtatiously at a female cadet who walked past them.

"Do you know her?"

"Jenna Patel. She's in pilot training, if I remember right. I met her last year at a party."

"You slept with her."

McCoy stated it as a fact, with a certain amount of resignation. It wasn't a surprise, given Kirk's history, and it did give him a tailor-made opportunity to bring up the issue he wanted to discuss.

"Yeah. Over eight months ago. Does that bother you?" Kirk asked. "Because you _know_ that's how I operate. _Have_ operated," he corrected himself.

"And you're not gonna do it from now on." McCoy was unable to keep the irony completely out of his voice.

"I..." Kirk stopped and took a deep and obvious breath. "I don't intend to," he said softly. "There's a reason why I won't promise. I might slip up. But I don't _intend_ to."

McCoy sighed too. "I know, Jim. It's not that I doubt your intentions." He looked around. There was a bench not too far away, facing the central quad. "Come on, let's sit."

Seated, the shade of a big old willow tree keeping both moonlight and streetlights from them, McCoy let himself put a hand on Kirk's arm.

"It's not that I don't believe you when you say you'll try," he repeated. "I do. I really do. But you're so notorious a womanizer that there's bound to be gossip if people realize that you're not chasing every skirt that passes any more. Maybe that won't bother you, but if it's known that _I'm_ the reason, then some of that gossip will center on me, and I can't handle that. I've had enough talk about my personal life to last me the rest of my days."

He didn't elaborate on the statement and Kirk didn't ask, not then anyhow, although McCoy guessed he'd tucked the admission away in his head under "facts about Bones" and would ask someday.

"So what I'm saying, basically, is that I want to keep – _us_ – under wraps, so to speak. I'm not ashamed –"

"I never thought you were." Kirk put his hand over McCoy's.

"– but I'll be a lot happier if my private life can stay private." McCoy turned his head to peer at Kirk. "Do you understand?"

Kirk frowned. "You're asking me not to tell people about us being together."

"Right."

"It won't work," said Kirk flatly. "As you've said yourself, everyone knows that I sleep with a different woman practically every other night. It's hardly a secret. And you don't want me to do that any more, which I totally understand and am going to do my best at..."

"Yeah, what's your point?"

"If I stop chasing skirts, as you put it, some people are gonna wonder why. Some might even _ask_ why outright. What am I supposed to do? Lie? Not that I couldn't, but wouldn't that seem like _I'm_ ashamed of you, of us, when it's found out? And I can almost guarantee that eventually it will be. Starfleet Academy can be a hotbed of gossip, or hadn't you noticed?"

"Well, _fuck_." McCoy scrubbed a hand across his face. Kirk was probably right, he admitted. Such a sudden shift in behavior _would_ draw comment... and speculation, if there was no explanation forthcoming.

"I see two alternatives," said Kirk, "but you won't like either of them."

"What are they?" McCoy suspected he knew what Kirk would say, but the kid _was_ a genius. Maybe he'd think of something McCoy had overlooked.

"One, I keep on with the women. A kind of protective coloration."

McCoy hadn't realized that he could feel so possessive. Even when he'd learned that his wife was cuckolding him, he hadn't experienced such a visceral reaction. His stomach churned at the very thought of Kirk fucking someone else – even though he knew that for Kirk it would be essentially meaningless, a mere transitory physical pleasure– but he knew better than to show his jealousy, or he'd almost certainly drive Kirk away.

"And two?" McCoy asked evenly.

"Two, I let people realize that I'm _not_ going after the ladies any more. I could refuse to say why – but that'll likely just whet curiosity and encourage speculation – or mention your name."

Kirk leaned back against the bench and stretched out his legs. "Or..." he added slowly.

"Or?" McCoy had a flash of hope.

"I _could_ invent someone, but that could backfire, if I'm never seen with my imaginary girlfriend."

"True."

There simply _wasn't_ a good solution, that was clear. If Kirk couldn't think of one, McCoy was going to have to accept it. He sighed.

"Maybe you could still flirt with the women, just not go home with them for sex?" he suggested.

"I could try." Kirk sounded doubtful. "At some point word'll get around if I do that, but it might work for a while, especially if I, you know, did more than flirt, if I fooled around with a few of them, some kissing and so on, not actual sex. How would you feel about _that_ , Bones? It's the only thing I can think of that might keep your identity out of the gossip loop."

McCoy didn't really like the notion of Kirk even kissing anyone else, but then, _he_ was the one making a big deal of this, and as long as Kirk wasn't actually going to have sex, McCoy couldn't complain too much.

It occurred to him also that if Kirk had the opportunity to mess around, that might get some of the itch out of his system. McCoy wasn't optimistic enough to think that Kirk was going to change his habits overnight, but maybe half a loaf would be enough to satisfy that hunger.

"I can live with that," he said, not without some internal struggle. "For now. Maybe sometime I'll decide that I'd rather endure the gossip."

"All right, that's how I'll do it." Kirk still had his fingers entwined with McCoy's. He squeezed, then let go. "Probably shouldn't be hand-holding, should we, if this is supposed to be a secret?"

"We're in the shadows, and it's late. I doubt anyone would see us," said McCoy, but he didn't try to take Kirk's hand again either.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until Kirk broke it.

"Bones."

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Do you know of anything we can do to make sure we're assigned to the same ship, once we graduate?"

McCoy blinked. Whatever he might have guessed Kirk wanted to talk about, that wasn't it.

"I have no idea," he said honestly. "I've never thought about it, and that's not exactly the kind of thing we cover in the medical curriculum. Command track is different – I'd think _you_ might learn tricks to manipulate assignments."

Kirk shook his head. "There are factors you can control, somewhat, like your class rank and what contacts you make with the brass, but in theory the cadets' assignments are based on where their skills are most needed. Being the top-ranked engineering student won't get you a berth on the ship you want if it already has a full complement of engineers, although supposedly they take our stated preferences into account... starting with the top of the class and going down, I'm sure. Incentive to do well."

It was. McCoy hadn't ever really thought about it, as he'd told Kirk, but that made sense.

"I'm not _top_ in the medical group, I don't think, but close," he mused. "Maybe number three or four. I hadn't worried about it. Should I?"

"You should," said Kirk firmly. "The closer to the top you are, the more likely to get your first choice of ship. Right now I'm thinking the _Enterprise_ , if she's ready. To be on her maiden voyage – that'd be the chance of a lifetime. And my chances aren't bad; I'm either one or two on the command track, depending on how well Bentik from Denobula is doing in a given week. I'd be number one for sure if I weren't overloading to finish four years in three," he added in an irritated voice.

"Wouldn't the powers that be take the fact that you're doing an accelerated program into account?" McCoy asked.

"Possibly," conceded Kirk, "but I think a few of them are threatened by it."

"Hm." McCoy suspected he was correct. Ideally Starfleet officers should be above such pettiness, but that was humanoid nature, doubtless even true of Vulcans despite their vaunted logic and emotional control.

"I do know one way to get someone assigned to the same ship as me, but it's not something that would work very well for you," he said.

"What is it?" Kirk grabbed McCoy's hand again and stood, pulling McCoy up with him. "Come on, let's walk, I'm tired of sitting still."

"Get used to it. Starships are not planets, with room to roam," said McCoy.

"No, but they have gyms and things, and there are away missions to planets," Kirk said. "Even if you say it's not feasible for me, what's this way of getting someone on your ship?"

"If I have a patient with a condition that necessitates my personal supervision, I can bring them along on a ship with me for treatment. It's not a regulation that's invoked very often, since it's rare that another doctor couldn't just take over. But it's the only thing I know of – came up last term in that class on medical protocols."

"No, I don't think that would work." Kirk's voice was cheerful, but his shoulders slumped a bit. "If I came down with some horrible alien virus, they'd just delay my assignment and keep me here until I got well."

"'Fraid so." McCoy laid his hand on Kirk's shoulder briefly. "Keep looking in the regs, though, maybe you'll find something. I'd rather be on the same ship as you are myself, if I _have_ to be on a ship."

"That's pretty much the deal in Starfleet." Kirk grinned. "Didn't I tell you that the day we met?"

"Yeah, you did. I've gotten more used to the idea – organizing that seminar on astrophobia helped some. But I'm still not exactly thrilled about it."

"You'll get over that," said Kirk confidently. "A spaceship isn't like a shuttle, anyhow. You have to _try_ to see out of a spaceship, unless you're on the bridge."

"I suppose, but phobias by definition aren't rational, Jim. You know that." McCoy yawned. "Sorry. Getting late for an old man like me."

"Hardly _old_." Kirk stopped and gave McCoy a slow, deliberate once-over, smirking until McCoy felt his face heat up in embarrassment. "Nope, _definitely_ not old. Which I'd prove to you if it weren't for our roommates. That makes it kind of tricky, I'm afraid. Can't throw Sidhu out all the time, it's his room too."

"True." McCoy swallowed. Maybe he _wasn't_ so old at that, since the appreciative way Kirk was ogling him was turning him on rather too much for comfort, given that they _were_ technically in public. "Um. How would you prove it?" he asked in a husky voice, curious as to just what Kirk had in mind.

Kirk moved a little closer and murmured, "Why, by getting you off two or three times in as many hours, like a teenager. I know you've got it in you."

"Maybe I do... and maybe there's something _else_ I'd like in me, one of these days." McCoy could hardly believe he'd said that. Being around Kirk made him far more reckless than he was accustomed to. Maybe after he'd grown used to them being together he _would_ let Kirk make their relationship public... especially if Kirk really managed to stay monogamous.

"Would you, now," Kirk said softly, his tongue swiping across his lower lip. "I wasn't sure the other night if you meant that offer."

"I mean it." McCoy knew he sounded abrupt as he said the words, convincing himself as well as Kirk. _Another way to make sure that when he fools around with women, he won't actually fuck them._ He'd had a cock up his ass a couple of times, and it had been all right. Probably be better with Kirk, though, and he _was_ a doctor, after all, he'd make sure to have on hand anything that might be necessary.

"Well then."

In their aimless walking they had circled back to the dormitories. Kirk glanced around and drew them to the side of a building where there was no door and no one passing by on the pavement there. He tugged McCoy close and gave him a fierce kiss.

"I'll figure out a time and a place for us," Kirk promised.


	12. The Best of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a little effort, Kirk finds an opportunity to spend time with McCoy.

Figuring out when and where he and McCoy could have sex again was not easy, but neither was it as bad as Kirk had feared it might be.

He broke the problem down into pieces, of course, and dealt with the when first. Mostly they both had evenings free, but sometimes McCoy had to work at the clinic. Same with weekends; usually McCoy had a clinic shift one day or the other, and Kirk had the advanced hand-to-hand combat class on Sunday afternoons, plus Xenolinguistics club meetings every other Sunday, including the one upcoming. So evenings and weekends were unpredictable.

Daytime was a possibility, though. Maybe a better one. Kirk considered it, pulling up both McCoy's schedule and his own and comparing them. Neither of them had a class on Wednesday afternoons between one-thirty and three, nor Thursday morning before ten. Kirk hummed to himself.

Technically he shouldn't have accessed the information about their roommates' schedules, but the security on that part of the computer network wasn't very strong. Besides, he was only doing it because it was faster than asking – it wasn't as if either of them would refuse to tell him, Kirk was certain of that. He superimposed the four schedules on a single weekly calendar and looked at the results.

_Bingo._

Thursday morning both Sidhu and Matthews had classes beginning at eight and lasting all the way until lunch. Eight to ten Thursday morning – well, not _quite_ ten, they'd have to allow time to get to their own classes – might not be the ideal time, but it was the only opportunity they had unless one of their roommates was gone all one evening, and that was too catch-as-catch-can, Kirk thought impatiently. The alternative on Wednesday afternoon wasn't as long of a window, plus it would require finding a place, since Sidhu had a class until two, and Matthews one that began at two-thirty, which meant that both rooms would be occupied during part of that putatively available time.

Kirk muttered under his breath over the complexity of Starfleet Academy class scheduling. Why did different tracks have different course meeting times, anyhow? Oh, well, at least he'd found _something_ that they could count on, time-wise, and only two days away. He sent a message to McCoy detailing what he'd worked out, and asking if McCoy cared which of their rooms they used. His guess was that McCoy would prefer his own, but it seemed polite to ask.

Knowing that McCoy didn't usually get immediate notification of messages unless they were marked both medical and urgent, since he didn't like interruptions when he was studying, Kirk turned off his PADD and stretched.

"Gonna shower," he said to Sidhu, who nodded absently without looking up.

Long, hot showers were a luxury Kirk knew he'd miss once he was on a ship; they were far too wasteful of water that then had to be recycled. For now, though, he enjoyed them. They were also his usual place for jacking off in private, which he did most days even if he anticipated having sex that day. He felt that his brain worked better, more quickly, after a good satisfying orgasm, and it always relaxed him.

Today he let himself think ahead with pleasure to Thursday as he ran his hand along his dick and felt it harden under his touch. He didn't need any lube; the water was sufficient and anyhow he liked a bit of friction.

 _Yes._ Kirk leaned against the cold wall and raised his chin, his hips rocking slightly as he thrust into his fist. He could almost feel McCoy tight and slick around him, and lifted his left hand as if to caress a body that was not there.

Would he be able to see McCoy's face when they were fucking, he wondered. When he'd fucked women in the ass, it had been doggy style, but he knew that it ought to be possible if maybe awkward for the two of them to face each other, and he decided that he wanted that, if McCoy was willing. Imagining the expression on McCoy's face then, Kirk came, semen gouting onto the side of the shower, only to be rinsed down the drain. He leaned in relaxation against the wall for a moment longer before hastily washing hair and body and stepping out to towel off.

His usual classes and activities filled that day and the next, during which he saw McCoy only for a few minutes in passing, just long enough to wonder if McCoy was anticipating Thursday morning as much as he himself was. McCoy didn't give much of a clue in his expression, and when a group of cadets went out drinking on Wednesday night, he left after only one drink, as Kirk learned when he realized that McCoy was gone and asked Cadet Baden if she'd seen him.

Kirk didn't understand it, but he consoled himself with remembering that they would meet in the morning in McCoy's room. He stayed for another couple of rounds and nearly got into a fight with a townie who called him "pretty boy," but both his friends and the other man's intervened. Probably to the good, that, since it was always a little embarrassing to have to go get McCoy to patch him up.

Instead he was at McCoy's dorm at eight o'clock, as agreed, with wholly unwelcome butterflies in his stomach as he walked up the stairs to McCoy's room.

"Hi."

"Hi." Kirk stared at McCoy's freshly-shaven face, noting that he'd missed a spot at the angle of his left jawbone.

"Come in," said McCoy, his voice dry, and Kirk pulled his thoughts together enough to step into the room, letting the door close behind him.

He had skipped breakfast, and now his stomach gurgled. McCoy gave a half-grin and a chuckle, breaking the tension.

"Sit down," he said, doing so himself on the edge of his bed.

Kirk followed, and then they were kissing, slow soft kisses that put him in mind of his junior high school girlfriend, Melinda, who had liked to kiss very much, but never let Kirk's hands go below her waist. Just to remind himself that he could, Kirk dropped a hand to McCoy's ass and squeezed it, garnering an answering squeeze from McCoy, who then broke off the kiss to say, "Impatient, Jim?"

Kirk grinned at him. "We've only got two hours. I don't want to waste any of it."

McCoy snorted. "Just so you remember that I'm a doctor, not a lump of dough to be kneaded."

"Too firm to be dough," Kirk assured him, groping his ass once more. He thought about adding, "But I need you," but hesitated long enough that it seemed awkward.

They fell to kissing again, this time lying down, their shoes kicked off, undressing each other bit by bit between kisses until they were both completely naked. Kirk traced the line of hair downward from McCoy's navel to his dick, and McCoy gave a groan low in his throat as Kirk stroked him.

"I thought you wanted to fuck me," he growled, a comment which went straight to Kirk's own cock, already hard and leaking just a bit of pre-come.

Kirk's mouth was dry. He swallowed. "Yeah."

"Have you ever...?" A shadow of worry lurked in McCoy's eyes.

"With women, you mean? A few times." Kirk took a breath. "You have lube?"

"On the table there."

Kirk stretched to grab the bottle, glancing at the label. Slippery Stuff, it was called. He shrugged and put a drop on his finger, smelling and then tasting it. It didn't taste like much at all, which was good. He hated the kind that had artificial fruit scent or flavor.

"Let me."

Kirk was a little hurt that McCoy didn't seem to think Kirk would know what to do, but on the other hand, he didn't want to make any mistakes, either, so he handed the bottle over and watched with fascination as McCoy began to lube his own ass. Something about the expression of concentration on McCoy's face, the way that his eyelids fluttered shut and his tongue swiped along his bottom lip as he pressed in a second finger, made Kirk want to pull those fingers away and put his dick in immediately. He didn't, of course, only watched and idly stroked himself as he waited for McCoy to say that he was finished.

Finally McCoy stopped and looked at Kirk. "Ready if you are."

"Hell yes. Can we do it face-to-face?"

McCoy seemed surprised by the request, although whether the surprise was because Kirk wanted to see him or because McCoy had assumed that would be the case, Kirk didn't know. In any event, McCoy rolled onto his back, drawing his knees up and grabbing them.

"Hurry up, kid, we ain't got all day."

"You think that's news?" He was already scrambling to position himself, putting the head of his dick against McCoy's asshole, resting there for a moment while he belatedly dribbled on a little more lube to ease the way.

It was better than he'd imagined, he decided as he pressed slowly in until every inch was embraced by McCoy's hot ass. Tighter than almost any cunt he'd ever tried, and slick with the lube though there was just the amount of friction that Kirk liked as he pulled back and then pushed in again at a slightly different angle.

On about the eighth or ninth thrust he felt McCoy relax a little bit, and several thrusts after that McCoy groaned and Kirk knew he'd hit the sweet spot. He thrust a little faster, his hands braced on either side of McCoy's shoulders, and leaned in to kiss McCoy, who opened his mouth to let his lips and tongue suck at Kirk's, echoing the way that his ass seemed to suck at Kirk's dick.

"It's okay?" Kirk asked when he had the use of his mouth once more, and McCoy chuckled.

"You might say that. I'd choose a stronger word, myself."

Kirk flashed him a smirk. "I'd hate to think I wasn't living up to my reputation."

"I'd say you were, all right. But you could move a little faster."

Kirk was happy to accede to that, and pumped his hips faster, the slip and clutch of McCoy's ass around his dick as fantastic a thing as he'd felt in a very long time. McCoy met his every thrust, grunting and sweating, although when Kirk glanced down between their bodies he confirmed what he thought he'd felt, that McCoy's cock had softened considerably as Kirk fucked him. Still, McCoy was clearly enjoying it very much, so Kirk didn't worry about that. He just kept on fucking at the pace McCoy seemed to want, hard and fast, and when McCoy let go of one knee to grab Kirk's ass and pull him closer, Kirk went along with that too, thrusting as deeply as he could. The thought crossed his mind that it might be too rough, that he might injure McCoy, but he guessed he had to trust him to know what he wanted.

"Fuck – yes – Jim," McCoy gasped.His fingers dug into the skin of Kirk's ass, and Kirk felt the spasm of orgasm triggered. He pumped a last few times to milk out the last of his come, then pulled out and reached for McCoy's dick.

"Suck me?" McCoy whispered with a touch to Kirk's head.

Kirk nodded and bent down to take a long lick. McCoy's cock was hardening again rapidly, and when Kirk sucked at the head, McCoy whimpered. Kirk didn't try to tease him, but licked and stroked the base with his fingers until McCoy had unloaded into his mouth. He pulled away to swallow but went back to lap up the last drops.

McCoy was tugging at him, urging him up, and Kirk let himself be drawn until they were lying chest to chest. His dick and thighs were smeared and sticky with come and lube but McCoy didn't seem to care. He smiled at Kirk, then gave him a deliberate kiss.

"I guess it must be native talent," he said.

"The fact that I'm a genius in bed as well as out of it? It's not as if I haven't had plenty of practice," Kirk pointed out.

"It's not quite the same as with girls, though. Is it?" McCoy looked at Kirk narrowly.

Kirk thought about it. "A lot of it's pretty similar... I don't know, I guess it was sort of different, too."

"Very profound, Jim. It's similar yet different. Your logic teacher would be proud."

"Fuck you." But Kirk said it with a smile, too recently satiated to muster up the energy to take umbrage.

"I believe you just did." McCoy yawned, his teeth gleaming white."'Scuse me. Surely even the renowned Jim Kirk can't be ready again quite _that_ fast?"

"Mm. Not quite," Kirk admitted. He squinted to see the time. A few minutes past nine, which meant not really enough time for a second round after all. He supposed they should get dressed, switch the ventilation to high, and make McCoy's bed, which had been made before Kirk arrived but had become noticeably disarranged by their activities. "Want to take a shower?"

"Together? There's hardly room for two," McCoy said.

"I don't mind a little crowding if you don't. I'll wash your back," offered Kirk with a grin. "And other bits, if you like."

McCoy snorted. "I bet you will. All right, let's try it then."

The shower was indeed crowded with two, but that only made it more enjoyable, Kirk thought, reaching with the bar of soap to wash whatever of himself and McCoy he could, then passing the soap to McCoy to do likewise. They ended up fairly clean. Kirk by then could have been up for another go, if there'd been time, but he determinedly thought about other things instead.

Still damp, his towel tucked around his waist, McCoy rubbed absently at his chin.

"You shaved already," said Kirk.

"Habit." McCoy looked in the mirror above the sink. "Besides, looks like I missed a spot." He picked up his razor and carefully drew it along his jaw. "That should do it."

Kirk had slid back into his uniform while McCoy touched up his shave, which allowed him to watch while McCoy dressed. Perhaps that wasn't entirely a good idea, since he found himself wanting to strip McCoy's clothes right back off. He _didn't_ , but he wanted to.

"Hey." Kirk cleared his throat. "When..."

"Maybe tomorrow night," McCoy interrupted. "I think Matthews has a night lab off at one of the big observatories, if it's not cloudy there. How about I send a message to let you know? I might not find out till he actually leaves for it though."

"I was thinking of going out to one of the bars," Kirk said dubiously.

"Then you won't know if you can come over, will you? You never hear your calls if you're at a bar. Too noisy even if you leave the sound on." McCoy's eyes caught Kirk's, the level gaze challenging.

It wasn't as though he didn't go out most nights, and he wasn't intending to pick up any women, anyhow. He could get some course work done, maybe skim through Pike's dissertation with an eye to that research paper.

"If you find out earlier, you'll let me know? But I'll wait to hear from you, at least till nine or ten," Kirk conceded. Better a chance to get together with McCoy than a definite night out with the crowd – and when had _that_ shift in his thinking taken place? Suddenly Kirk was glad it was almost time for his class, that he wouldn't see McCoy again until that evening at soonest, because his reactions were making him feel unbalanced and he needed to figure out how to get back onto an even keel.

Kirk didn't particularly enjoy introspection. Basically he considered it a waste of time, preferring to concentrate his energies on solving problems that were more evident and more pressing than straightening out his own tangled thoughts. Yet it niggled at him, why he wanted so badly to keep having sex with McCoy, when for the last few years almost all of his encounters had been one night stands, with only a handful of even second encounters with any given partner. It wasn't that the sex was so wonderful; well, it _was_ pretty amazing, but it wasn't as if he hadn't had some fantastic sex in the past, and it hadn't elicited this kind of response. Nor was it the fact that McCoy was another man, Kirk was pretty sure of that. Novelty alone didn't fascinate him for that long. He'd been with a few alien women and those encounters had been enjoyable, but he hadn't felt compelled to seek them out repeatedly.

By evening, when he was heading for the cafeteria where he hoped to see McCoy, Kirk had decided that it must simply be the fact of their existing friendship that caused him to want to be with McCoy more than any other sexual partner he'd ever had. Hell, even before he'd found out that McCoy was attracted to him, and realized that he might return the feeling, Kirk had always wanted to spend time with McCoy when he could manage it. In retrospect their weekly lunches looked almost like a standing date.

Tray in hand, Kirk looked around the crowded dining room. Finally he spotted McCoy sitting with some of their other friends. There were a couple of empty seats there, so Kirk threaded his way through the tables and sank into a chair opposite McCoy.

A chorus of hellos greeted him before the conversation returned to a discussion of what assignments each of them hoped for next spring, once they had graduated. Kirk had heard it all before and concentrated on both eating and not staring too obviously at McCoy.

"The doc wants to stay here on Earth, don't you?" Sharpe said.

When McCoy replied, "I don't know. Maybe a ship assignment wouldn't be so bad after all," Kirk looked up. McCoy was tracing patterns with his fork in the remaining dribbles of gravy on his plate. "I've worked hard to get over my aviophobia; it seems like I should take advantage of that. Not as if staying planetside would keep me from having to take shuttles now and again anyhow."

"Good for you," said Baden, a husky blonde on the pilot-training track. "I've always wondered, is there some physiological explanation for a phobia like that, or is it strictly psychological?"

McCoy lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "It can be either one. Inner ear problems that cause dizziness can be exacerbated in flight, but a lot of folks without any balance issues find flying traumatic too."

"Well, I'm glad it's never been a problem for me," said Baden firmly. She set her empty milk glass on her tray and stood up. "I'm down for simulator practice this evening. See you guys later."

Slowly the table emptied, until only Kirk and McCoy were left.

"You meant that, didn't you?" Kirk restrained himself from reaching across the table and grab McCoy's hand. No public displays of affection, not until and unless McCoy gave the thumbs-up on those. "About accepting a ship assignment."

"No, I just said it for laughs." McCoy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I meant it. There's nothing much for me here on Earth, after all. Jocelyn isn't likely ever to make it easier for me to see Joanna, or even speak with her very often, and I can transmit letters just as easily from a ship. She won't get handwritten ones, but..." He shrugged.

"You could pick up souvenirs for her on the different planets you visit," Kirk offered.

"That's true." McCoy sighed. "There's no ideal solution, really, but since it's likely that I'll end up on shipboard even if I put down a preference for a planetside post, I might as well make the best of it." His eyes looked almost green as he glanced up at Kirk and added softly, "Being on the same ship as you – _that_ would be the best of it."

"I think so, too," Kirk said, ignoring a stab of worry that the odds were against that outcome.


	13. Failure of Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy accepts a somewhat unexpected offer from Kirk.

"What are you doing over the winter break?"

McCoy looked over at Kirk. They had managed an hour for sex earlier in the evening, but Kirk wasn't quite sure when Sidhu would be back, so now they were studying together – more or less. This was the third time Kirk had interrupted him. At least it was a _meaningful_ question this time, although since it was only the last week of November, not tremendously _urgent_ , not by McCoy's standards.

"I'm going to visit Joanna. I hope," he added.

"Why 'you hope'?" Kirk frowned.

"I've booked a shuttle spot and made a hotel reservation. I've even sent a message to tell Jocelyn when I'll be there, but I don't put it past her to find a way to take Joanna out of town exactly then, even though the divorce settlement provided that I should be able to see Joanna regularly. She's done it before. Last time Jocelyn's mother fell very conveniently 'ill', and Jocelyn insisted that Joanna had to visit her grandmother in case it was the last time she saw her."

"That's not _totally_ unreasonable, I guess."

"Huh. If she'd really been sick, yes. I called in a favor from a friend and found out that Evangeline was having a routine second mammogram because there had been an unidentified mass in one breast the first time. It turned out to be nothing at all, really, a harmless cyst, and absolutely nothing to warrant taking Joanna to Mobile to see her – and Jocelyn would have known that. So this time when I contacted Jocelyn I pointed out that I _do_ have visitation rights, and that, given that I'm likely to be leaving the planet within about six months of this proposed visit, I didn't think the court would look kindly on it if she prevented Joanna from seeing me." McCoy shrugged. "It could work, it could backfire. Jocelyn always was a stubborn bitch."

" _Bitch_ doesn't sound like the half of it," Kirk muttered. "Where do they live? That little podunk hometown of yours?"

McCoy shook his head. "No, one of the super ritzy walled suburbs of Atlanta. Joanna's new husband is someone who can provide her with everything material she's always wanted to have. _I_ was never more than a poor country doctor."

"She left you because of _that_?" Kirk sounded outraged on his behalf, and McCoy gave a weary bark of laughter.

"Not so much that I was a poor country doctor, as that I had no aspirations to become anything more. Plus she felt that I loved doctoring more than I loved her." He shrugged. "There was some truth to that."

"Well, _I'm_ glad she was such a stupid greedy cow, or you wouldn't be here." Kirk smirked knowingly at him, and McCoy shifted in his chair.

"I suppose so."

"I _know_ so. Anyway, to get back to my original question, if you're going off to see Joanna, or at least try to see her, would you like some company on the trip?"

McCoy looked at him. Yes, Kirk was serious about the suggestion. "Don't you have anything better to do for the holiday?"

"Not really. Last I heard from Sam, he'd moved with his family off planet to the Deneva colony, not exactly within visiting distance, and I have no idea where my mother is assigned just now."

Kirk said that last with a commendable lack of rancor; McCoy knew that Kirk's relationship to his mother was, to say the least, problematic, although he hadn't yet probed _that_ particular psychological wound.

"There's no one I'd rather spend the holidays with than you, Bones. I was going to suggest we take a little trip together, actually, maybe go down to Big Sur or Monterey or somewhere not too far, but..." He trailed off, blue eyes open wide as he gazed at McCoy.

They'd been discreet enough for the past, damn, had it really been six weeks and more already? Kirk had flirted with women almost as much as ever, even gone home with a few, but he'd sworn blind to McCoy that he hadn't let things move beyond some kissing and caressing, and McCoy believed him. He still was reluctant to make their involvement public here at the Academy, but how likely was it that anyone would see them together in Georgia, on the other side of the continent?

"It's likely to be boring as hell," he warned. "Joanna's not quite nine, you know, so my outings with her will be to places like the zoo or the movies."

"No problem. I was that age once myself." A shadow crossed Kirk's face, but his voice remained light. "More recently than you, old man."

McCoy snorted. "In some ways you still _are_ nine, Jim."

"Come on, you know that's why you like me. Hey, what'll you do if you get there and Jocelyn has pulled her stunt of dragging Joanna out of town again?"

"I'll find out where they've gone and follow them," said McCoy grimly. "One thing to miss a visit when there would be other chances, but not this time. If I have to, I'll get a court injunction. I may not be a Starfleet medical officer yet, but Jocelyn can hardly claim that being in the Academy makes me an unfit parent."

Kirk gave a slow nod. "I'm with you. You said you already booked your flight?"

"Yes."

"Forward the info to me, then, and I'll see if I can get on the same one. If you give me the hotel information, or no, wait, you'll have to change that reservation, unless you want separate rooms?"

McCoy hesitated for only an instant before he shook his head. "But I'll ask for a room with two beds, in case Joanna sees it."

"Okay." There was an edge of disappointment in Kirk's voice.

"I definitely want you to meet her, though," said McCoy, pleased when that suggestion made Kirk look happier again. "You don't have to spend all your time with us or anything, but I appreciate your wanting to come along, and I want to spend time with you too, it's just that Joanna has to be my priority on this trip."

"I understand."

Kirk got up and came over to McCoy, kneeling beside his chair and kissing him. "But at night I get you all to myself."

McCoy caught his breath. That was as close to a statement that he was serious about McCoy as he'd ever heard Kirk make. "Me, too. We'll have four nights together; I can't take off more than five consecutive days from the clinic."

"Four nights, hm? I bet we can have a lot of fun in four nights."

They kissed again, and things might have progressed further, but a noise at the door alerted them to break apart, Kirk leaping back to his own bed where he'd been studying as Sidhu came into the room.

When they met for their usual lunch that Friday, Kirk said that he had managed to secure a seat on the same Atlanta shuttle on which McCoy had his, leaving on December 26th and returning on the 30th.

"Good." McCoy took another bite of his soup – a seafood chowder, and surprisingly much better than the usual cafeteria fare – and changed the subject. He didn't want to discuss their holiday travel plans here. "How's that leadership class of yours going? 'The Psychology of Command' or whatever bullshit name it has?"

Kirk leaned forward and spoke enthusiastically. "I'm working on the paper now. You know the strange thing about Starfleet? They keep amazingly detailed records, and they're always analyzing them, but only in certain ways. Usually it's an analysis focused on just one ship, or even officer, or at most on a single type of maneuver or engagement. There's relatively little synthesis or comparative analysis, although I can't understand why because you'd think that would be useful. But it's as if the senior officers of the fleet have certain patterns in mind, and all they want to do is compare reality with those fixed ideas, rather than rethink them altogether. So what I'm trying to do in this paper is that kind of broader overview and analysis that seems to be lacking."

He nodded sharply and sat back again, picking up his apple and taking an enormous crunching bite, grinning at McCoy as he chewed.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" McCoy asked. He knew what Kirk meant about the kind of narrow thinking that characterized much of Starfleet's high command; for all they saw themselves as innovative, they weren't, really. A tendency toward inertia, toward sticking to what had been done successfully before, had crept in. Someone who challenged that complacency was unlikely to be welcomed with open arms, and if Kirk wanted rapid promotion, he would need to be circumspect. Not that anything McCoy advised was likely to persuade Kirk of _that_ necessity.

"It'll be fine," said Kirk in the breezy tone that McCoy was learning he used when he wasn't quite as sure of himself as he would like to seem. "It's just a research paper, that's all. I've been able to read some interesting articles while writing it."

McCoy shrugged. "It's your funeral."

"I doubt that." Kirk laughed. "I'm more worried that I'll be marked down for going way over the assigned length than anything else. I don't know how strict this professor is about that."

"You could _ask_."

"No, because if I do and she says that the upper limit is firm, then I'll have to butcher my argument to get the paper down to the required length. If I _don't_ ask, and she marks me down for going over, I might be able to persuade her to change her mind." Kirk winked.

"You're incorrigible, Jim."

They had both finished eating, and it was nearly time for the next class. As they carried their trays back to the hatch, Kirk asked in an undertone, "Are you busy tonight?"

"No, not after six. I just have a shift tomorrow morning at the clinic," McCoy said.

"There's a party in Christlieb Hall."

McCoy shook his head. "I don't think I'm up for anything like that."

He wasn't much of one for parties, hadn't been since his undergraduate days, and if he went to a party with Kirk, either he'd be annoyed with Kirk for flirting with all of the women present, or if by some miracle Kirk restrained himself, he'd be worried that someone would guess the reason why. A lose-lose situation altogether.

"What I was _going_ to say, Bones, if you'd let me finish, was that Sidhu plans to go to this one, so we'd have my room to ourselves for a good couple of hours for sure. If you want to come over."

They were out on the central quad by now, but Kirk had kept his voice low enough that none of the passing cadets could have heard him.

"Just send me a message to let me know, or tell me at dinner. I'm gonna be late for class if I don't get moving."

Kirk thumped McCoy on the shoulder and dashed off.

More slowly, McCoy headed for his own class. He didn't have any intention of saying no. They didn't get to spend as much time together as McCoy would have liked, after all. If he were willing to be public about their relationship, it would be easier, but he still felt apprehensive about doing that. Maybe after the winter break? By then they would have been together for three months or so, and it would be a new semester, no immediate pressure of exams to add stress to the situation. He'd think about it, anyhow, although maybe waiting until after graduation would be even better, assuming that they made it that long.

He met up with Kirk and some of their other friends for dinner, and managed to get sufficiently involved in a conversation with Kirk about medical rescue protocols that it was only natural he would go back with to Kirk's room to continue it. He was rather proud of himself for that.

Sidhu had returned a few minutes earlier. When there was a lull in the conversation, he asked Kirk, "Planning to come to the party? It's a big one, you should come too, doc."

"I have to be at the clinic early tomorrow, I'm afraid. My patients wouldn't thank me if I were half-asleep," McCoy said.

"Kirk? How about you?"

With a shrug, Kirk said, "Maybe. Bones is being my conscience tonight to get me to do some work, but maybe I'll come along later."

"Do. You know you're always the life of any party." Sidhu smiled. "I'll see you later then, here if not there."

As soon as Sidhu had left, Kirk stretched out on his bed and grinned at McCoy. "So, come here."

"Don't you want to take some clothes off first?" McCoy raised his eyebrows. "I feel like a teenager making out in the back seat when we're both still dressed."

"Maybe you need to feel like a teenager more often, did you think of that? I'll tell you what. How about a little striptease? You do one for me, I'll do one for you. I'm sure I can find some, hm, _suitable_ music, if you need inspiration."

"You're ridiculous, you know that, right?" McCoy grumbled.

"It'll be fun," wheedled Kirk. "You need to loosen up. I'll even go first to put you in the mood."

"Okay, fine."

Kirk bounced off the bed again, shooing McCoy to sit down in his place. He had the computer start playing a musical selection that was almost a parody of what McCoy would expect someone to strip to; real bump and grind stuff. He dimmed the lights too before taking up a pose where McCoy could watch him.

Kirk was good at this. _Very_ good. McCoy didn't let himself think about how many times Kirk might have done it before, or for which other partners. Only someone as self-confident as Kirk generally acted could strip down to such cheesy music without even a shred of embarrassment perceptible. He managed to make even the act of removing his _shoes_ erotic, before going on to start exposing actual flesh. Cadet uniform was less than ideal for such a routine, given that there were no buttons or other complicated fastenings to them, yet Kirk managed somehow. McCoy palmed his dick through his trousers as he watched, and felt the sweat break out on his forehead when Kirk wiggled his ass just _so_.

"Warm in here."

Kirk flashed him a smile. "That's the idea."

Too soon it was over, leaving Kirk naked and sporting a substantial erection. McCoy's mouth watered at the sight, but when he would have beckoned Kirk over and started sucking him off, Kirk shook his head.

"First you have to strip down too. That was the deal."

It was less awkward than it might have been, since Kirk had just done the same and was watching with visible enjoyment, but McCoy knew that his efforts to be sexy simply didn't have the same élan Kirk's did. Nevertheless he managed, even shimmying his hips a few times to the music, which Kirk had set to repeat on a loop.

"Very nice, Bones," Kirk murmured as McCoy finished. "I bet you've never done that before, have you?"

McCoy shook his head. "Nothing that deliberately..." he groped for the appropriate word.

"Lewd?" Kirk's eyes glinted. "Erotic?"

"Yeah." McCoy cleared his throat and lay down on the bed next to Kirk. "Although I think any fair-minded observer would describe your efforts as far more erotic than mine."

"Matter of perspective." Kirk scooted over slightly so that their mouths could meet, and by making judicious use of lips and tongue, kept McCoy from disparaging his own abilities any further just then.

Even after six weeks it still amazed McCoy that he was sleeping with Kirk. The preceding two-plus years had convinced him thoroughly that it would never happen, and it still seemed like a dream from which he might wake at any moment. Although he had to admit there was nothing very dreamlike about the feel of Kirk's dick in his hand or mouth or ass. Mostly they stuck with hands and mouths to get each other off; there was always the possibility that Matthews or Sidhu might return unexpectedly early, and while getting caught at all would be awkward, getting caught while Kirk reamed his ass was about the most humiliating thing McCoy could think of.

He slid his hands along Kirk's back, down to his butt cheeks, pulling their hips close so that their cocks rested side by side. Kirk hummed contentedly, rocking himself against McCoy even as he kissed him again.

"Wanna suck you off while you do me," he murmured then. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," McCoy agreed.

Kirk flipped himself around on the bed. "Scoot this way a little," he ordered. "I need to have some room for my legs."

That left McCoy's feet dangling off the edge of the bed, so they wriggled around diagonally to accommodate both of their bodies as best as possible. He'd only done 69 with a man once before, and it hadn't worked out very well, but he made it a point to cooperate with pretty much anything that Kirk suggested. The angle was unfamiliar, but certainly doable. McCoy licked away the drop or two of fluid welling up in Kirk's slit before sealing his lips around the head more firmly, using his tongue to caress the spongy-firm tissue. Kirk groaned.

"Fuck, but that's good." Then he licked along McCoy's shaft from root to tip and blew over the wetness, causing McCoy's hips to jolt involuntarily.

McCoy groaned. _This_ was why he had been dubious about sucking each other off simultaneously; what Kirk was doing felt too damn good, and it distracted him from reciprocating in the way that he felt he ought to. Though, if the sounds Kirk was making as McCoy caressed his balls was any indication, maybe he wasn't doing so badly. He pinched a few of the hairs at the base of Kirk's dick and tugged them, provoking a gasp and a thrust of the hips from Kirk, but he'd expected such a reaction and was prepared, so he didn't gag when the head of Kirk's dick hit the back of his throat, only relaxed it. Then he let his fingers slide back, behind Kirk's balls, drawn up tight in their hairy pouch, and back to the tight dry pucker of his anus. One fingertip titillated the sensitive flesh even as he slurped his way back up Kirk's length to lavish more attention on his dickhead.

Kirk was pressing wet kisses up and down McCoy's length, almost nibbling, and McCoy felt the occasional graze of a tooth, which only made it hotter. Kirk usually had very good control, and the thought that what he himself was doing was probably the cause of some loss of that control pleased McCoy rather more than perhaps it should have. Kirk had wetted his finger and slipped that inside McCoy, too, moving it in circles, gently stretching McCoy out, and nudging his prostate every little while. Fuck, but it felt good. McCoy stopped sucking Kirk for a moment to push himself down against Kirk's finger.

With a wet pop, Kirk's lips slid off McCoy's dick, and Kirk said, "What is it, Bones, do you want me to fuck you?"

McCoy started to nod, realized that the movement might not be clear from Kirk's view, and relinquished Kirk's dick to say hoarsely, "Yes, dammit, _yes_."

"All right."

Kirk moved, rolling away, then came back and McCoy felt the cool slickness of lube. He turned slightly onto his stomach, drawing the knee of his upper leg in toward his chest to give Kirk better access, and groaned as he felt Kirk's dick nudging him wider open.

"Yes, fuck, come _on_ ," he begged, and Kirk obliged, pushing all the way into him in one smooth slow thrust. His hand came around and found McCoy's dick, pumping it in time with his thrusts.

"You like this so much, wonder how you'd like it if I put it my tongue in there," said Kirk, biting at McCoy's shoulder.

"Too dirty," McCoy managed to gasp.

"Not if we cleaned up thoroughly first." Kirk nipped him again. "Bet you'd love it."

McCoy bet he would, too, and he certainly couldn't muster sufficient coherency to protest further just then.

"Gonna let _you_ fuck _me_ one of these days too." Kirk quickened his stroke, hips and hand both moving fast and hard now.

McCoy whimpered. He'd been more than satisfied with everything they had done already, but the idea of Kirk accepting that level of intimacy, letting McCoy inside his body, overwhelmed him. He came, semen spurting hot onto his belly and Kirk's fingers and the sheets. He could feel his ass pulse and contract around Kirk's dick, and Kirk gave one last deep thrust and stilled, panting hot breath onto the skin of McCoy's back.

"Damn, Bones," Kirk said presently, pulling out. A trickle of moisture followed, dripping down the back of McCoy's thigh.

"Sorry. Didn't think I'd finish that fast." McCoy felt a little embarrassed.

"No big deal." Kirk's body moved, and McCoy deduced a shrug. "It was hot."

McCoy wanted to ask if Kirk had meant what he said, but to ask would seem as if he didn't trust him, and that wasn't really the case. It was more that he had a hard time ever believing that things would really go well for him. So instead he turned over to put them face to face and stroked his thumb along Kirk's cheek, trying to say in that gesture the emotions he wasn't yet prepared to put into words.


	14. A Question of Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk and McCoy spend Christmas evening together.

Christmas, the holiday, had never meant that much to Kirk. Neither he nor anyone in his family was religious, and the secular ways of celebrating the holiday had only emphasized the lack of good will in the household of his childhood years.

The past two Christmases at Starfleet Academy had not changed his attitude appreciably. Whether believers or not – and the great majority were not – most of the cadets seized the opportunity of the winter break from regular classes to go home if they could manage it. Kirk, of course, had had no interest in doing so. His first year, he had elected to take an intersession course that accustomed cadets to coping with different gravity fields, from pure weightlessness up to four Gs, and also taught the skills of wearing a spacesuit, everything from extra vehicular activities to making an emergency drop to a planet.

Last year he had decided that he needed a break, having taken summer classes and therefore having been in school with no vacation longer than a week in sixteen months. He had stayed on campus, hanging about with the one or two friends who were also there, and getting a head start on his reading for the spring term.

He had no particular plans for today, other than going out for dinner with McCoy; the day he was looking forward to was tomorrow, when they would travel to Atlanta together. He did have a present to give him, though it had been hard to think of a suitable one. First, because wherever McCoy ended up being assigned, he'd be limited in how much personal baggage he could take with him – unless of course he stayed on Earth, which Kirk really hoped wouldn't happen.

Second, because although they had been together for over two months now, Kirk was uncertain how he thought of their relationship. He found it both emotionally and sexually enjoyable, no question about that, but he also felt a degree of restlessness. He tried to relieve that by flirting with women almost as much as he ever done, but it didn't always help. While so far he had kept from having actual intercourse with any of them since he had told McCoy he would try not to, the temptation to do so was becoming stronger. Fooling around with hands and even mouths didn't count, he'd decided, especially since it had been McCoy's idea that he keep on being seen publicly with women.

Blast it. Kirk shoved his pillow up and rolled over, trying to find a more comfortable position. Maybe these next few days of being together in public, even though it would be in Atlanta where no one they knew would see them, would convince McCoy that it would be all right to end the secrecy thing.

McCoy had a clinic shift that morning. Someone had to work then, and since he was to be gone for the next five days, he'd drawn a short straw for the holiday itself. So Kirk wouldn't see him till that afternoon. In the meantime, he'd sleep a bit longer, then pack and maybe work out at the gym. There were no combat classes over the break, but he might find someone to spar with there, or he could simply use the machines and perhaps swim a few laps.

The exercise had put him in a better mood by the time he met up with McCoy for dinner. They'd chosen a nice restaurant, wanting something better than the cafeteria for a change.

"How was the clinic today?" Kirk asked. "Not too busy, I hope."

"Not bad. The usual for the holiday; kids falling off new bikes and that sort of thing." His pinched expression belied the casualness of his words, however.

"Are you sure? You look kind of upset, the way you do when it's been a rough day there."

"Of course I'm sure," McCoy snapped, then visibly took hold of himself and sighed. "Sorry. I'm worried about tomorrow, that's all."

Since they were sitting in the corner of the restaurant with only civilians around, no one who would recognize either of them, Kirk reached across the table to grab McCoy's hand. "Don't. It'll be fine. If by some chance the worst happens and Jocelyn has taken Joanna somewhere else, we'll figure out a way to make sure you see her. I'll be there to help."

McCoy squeezed his hand briefly before pulling his own away. "I know. I appreciate that. I just really don't want it to have to happen, since there's such a short time to begin with."

Their food arrived then, and Kirk took a bite of roasted potato, having to suck in air to cool his mouth from the heat of it.

"Slow down, for pity's sake." McCoy sounded more like his usual bossy doctor self with that statement, and Kirk grinned at him.

"Too good to wait for. Like some other things I could mention." He loved the way that McCoy turned slightly pink when he made such insinuating remarks.

"Humph," McCoy grumbled.

They ate for a few minutes in silence, and Kirk refilled their glasses from the bottle of wine they'd ordered.

"It's a six a.m. shuttle," he said thoughtfully.

"Yes. We probably won't be able to check into the hotel right away, but I'm sure they'll hold our suitcases for us. I wanted to spend as much time with Joanna as I could, and besides, the day after Christmas? Every form of transportation is going to be totally full later in the day, but a super-early flight might not be too bad." McCoy stabbed up a piece of roast beef. "This is good. I'm glad you suggested this place."

"Thanks. I was thinking, since the flight's so early and we'll have to get to the shuttle port even earlier, maybe it would make sense for us to spend the night together. Neither of our roommates is here," Kirk pointed out.

McCoy chewed on his lip. "I don't know. There are still plenty of other people around, and it would look pretty compromising if someone saw us both coming out of one of our rooms together like that."

"Come on, it'll be four-thirty in the morning, even before the ass-crack of dawn, on the day after a holiday. What chance that someone would happen to be up and in, say, my hallway at exactly that moment? Walking together to catch a bus to the shuttle port wouldn't look strange at all." Kirk tried not to let his annoyance at McCoy's caution show too much. He didn't want to start off this trip with a quarrel.

"I suppose you're right. Have you packed yet?"

"Did it this afternoon."

"Then why don't you bring your bag to my room and stay with me. I still need to pack; didn't get a chance earlier what with being at the clinic almost all day."

Kirk grinned and ran his foot up along McCoy's calf to his thigh.

"What are you doing?" McCoy hissed. "Jim..."

"Just trying to make sure you have an... enjoyable... evening, starting as soon as possible. Consider it a gift. Although I do have something else for you, too. Here."

He pulled out the package he'd brought along in the pocket of his coat. It was not much bigger than the palm of his hand. He slid it across the table.

"I'll open it after we've finished eating." McCoy looked faintly embarrassed. "I have something for you, too, but I forgot to bring it. It's still in my room."

"That's fine." Kirk waved it off. "If you'd rather take yours back so we can open them together, we can do that."

"All right."

They took their time eating; there was no need to rush, and the food was excellent, in Kirk's opinion. He suggested having a drink after dinner, port or whatever McCoy might want, but McCoy refused.

"I'm pretty tired, and if I had another drink right now, it would probably finish me off. I have a bottle of good whiskey in my room, though, a present from one of my old medical colleagues. We could have some of that later on, if we wanted, and then I'll pack the bottle to take with us."

On the way to McCoy's room, they stopped by Kirk's, and he picked up his suitcase, remembering to grab his toothbrush and a couple of other last-minute things and stick them in too.

It was a foggy evening, and the campus was virtually deserted. Kirk saw only one other person, hurrying along on the far side of the quad. It was good to get out of the chilly night and into the bright warmth of McCoy's room.

"No, let's open the presents first," said Kirk, forestalling McCoy when he pulled out his suitcase and made as if to start packing immediately.

"Okay." McCoy plucked a box from his dresser and gave it to Kirk. "For you."

"You first."

Kirk watched as McCoy unwrapped his gift. He'd spotted it in the window of an antique store several weeks ago as he was heading for a bar, and gone back several days later to buy what he'd seen, thinking it the perfect present: not too large, potentially useful, and semi-medical in nature.

McCoy was turning the small metal tin over and over in his hand, looking quizzical. "Carter's Little Liver Pills?"

"One of those old patent nostrums of the nineteenth century," Kirk said. "They aren't any actual pills inside anymore –"

"That's a relief," interjected McCoy in a mutter.

"– but I figured you could use it to keep little doodads in, or just as a decoration. I liked the advertising logo, you see: 'What is life without a liver?'"

One corner of McCoy's mouth quirked. "You would. Thanks, Jim," he said sincerely. "It's a very nice gift. Now you."

Kirk unlooped the ribbon and tore away the wrapping paper to reveal –

"A first-aid kit?"

"Well, you haven't gotten into as many brawls lately, I admit, but I figured this would be useful to you just in case you did and I wasn't around to patch you up."

Was that a smirk on McCoy's face?

"Ah. Well. Nice to know that you have my well-being in mind," said Kirk a little dubiously, setting the box aside.

"You should look at it a little more closely, I think," said McCoy, his smirk widening.

Kirk picked it up again and realized that it was not at all a first aid kit.

He opened the box and began pulling out its contents. Two dozen condoms, in various colors, textures, and flavors; three different kinds of lube; a long strip of silky fabric that Kirk decided was probably supposed to be a blindfold; something that looked a bit like a baby's pacifier but was bright blue and far too large and according to the list on the box's cover must be an anal plug; and several other assorted bits and bobs.

"You kinky bastard," Kirk said with an enormous grin. He'd certainly never expected anything like _this_ from McCoy.

"Yes. Well," said McCoy gruffly. He looked a little embarrassed. "It's not – I wasn't trying to say that you're _only_ interested in sex, you know. I just thought you might like it."

With a grin, Kirk pointed at his crotch, where his dick was now creating a noticeable bulge against the uniform fabric. "I like it. Even if we don't exactly need the condoms, given that both of us are vaccinated against all the usual suspects." He pulled out several of the foil-wrapped packets and looked at them. "Although they might have their uses; this one is ribbed, 'to enhance your partner's sensations,' and this one is supposed to taste like strawberry. If you like artificial chemical strawberries, that is." He made a face. "I don't. But maybe you want to try it."

McCoy shook his head. "Not strawberry."

He took the last couple of steps he needed to let him put his arms around Kirk. "Merry Christmas, Jim," he murmured, his hands tugging at Kirk's clothes.

"Merry Christmas to you, too." Kirk patted McCoy's ass. "Maybe not the condoms, but we could try out some of that new lube tonight, and, um, that scarf thing. As a blindfold."

"On who?"

"Me."

For all that Kirk had had, he readily admitted, a lot of sex with a lot of different women – and now one man – it had mostly been sex of a pretty straightforward kind. Sure, he'd had plenty of oral sex, and anal a few times, and he'd even gotten off between a woman's tits more than once, but he'd never gone in for the kinky stuff like handcuffs or sex toys or any of that kind of thing. With McCoy, though, it wasn't that he got bored with the things they did, more that he wanted to explore a lot more, and felt like maybe he could say so and McCoy wouldn't judge him for it.

"Blindfold you?" McCoy touched the skin just beside Kirk's eye, stroking it lightly. Kirk shivered and closed his eyes. "We can do that."

"Let me take off my tunic, then you can blindfold me and do whatever you want," said Kirk, anticipation rising inside him.

The fabric was cool and smooth against his face, folded over and tied firmly enough that he couldn't see, but arranged so that it didn't interfere at all with his breathing. He could feel McCoy's hands on him, caressing his chest, moving down to unfasten his trousers.

"Lift your right foot."

Kirk did, and his shoe and sock were removed. He put it down again and lifted the left before McCoy had to ask. The loosened trousers had slipped down his thighs already. He shifted so that they fell to his ankles, and stepped out of them. McCoy tugged his underpants off then, and Kirk stood naked and suddenly a little nervous.

"Come here." McCoy guided him the few steps to the bed. "Just stretch out here for a minute."

Kirk lay down, reclining on his right side, propping his head up with his elbow, his head cocked toward the sound of McCoy's movements even though he couldn't see. He heard the faint rustle of fabric as McCoy undressed too, and then the creak and dip of the mattress as McCoy crawled onto it.

He expected a kiss, and he got one – just not in quite the way he anticipated. Instead McCoy's mouth engulfed his dick in wet heat, sucking firmly, so that Kirk groaned and fumbled to find McCoy's head and touch him.

"No," McCoy mumbled around Kirk's dick. Then he stopped sucking long enough to say more clearly, "This is about _you_ tonight. Don't worry about me. Okay?"

"Okay," Kirk agreed, but he privately determined that at least once while they were in Atlanta, he was going to do something special for McCoy. He'd already decided that he would let McCoy fuck him for the first time tomorrow, but maybe he would do something else one of those nights too. He let himself relax, then, concentrating on the sensations that coursed through him as McCoy worked him over with hands and mouth, touching and kissing him everywhere. The blindfold really did heighten his responses, just as he'd hoped; since he never knew what McCoy was going to do next or where, he found that he was more focused, more aware of each caress.

After the initial minute or two, McCoy had left Kirk's dick mostly alone except for a few glancing touches. Kirk was tempted to fondle himself, but when he moved his hand there, McCoy slapped it away gently. "You'll be getting what you want soon enough." Kirk grumbled, but acquiesced.

McCoy spent a few more minutes teasing him before Kirk felt himself straddled. There was a pause, and some small sounds, before Kirk's dick was lifted and he felt McCoy's ass open up around him.

They both groaned, McCoy a beat behind Kirk, and then there was delicious friction as McCoy started to rock back and forth.

Focused on the feel of McCoy's ass around his cock, Kirk cried out when his left nipple was unexpectedly twisted. He arched his back, and the pinching fingers were replaced by McCoy's tongue, soothing him.

"Ah fuck, fuck Bones, please, faster," Kirk ground out, unable to do much more than strain upward with McCoy's weight pinning him in place.

Instead McCoy paused, and when he resumed his motion it was more slowly than before.

"Oh, no. This is gonna be something you'll remember."

"I'll remember anyway," Kirk grumbled. "I could – oh fuck, clench like that again – I could probably name you off every time we've had sex so far, if I tried."

"Could you now." McCoy's voice was a low growl. Kirk felt his weight shift before McCoy's lips found his, kissing him urgently, his tongue sliding between Kirk's lips to plunge deeply into his mouth. The tempo of their hips slowed as they both concentrated on the kiss, but when McCoy began to move once again, it was faster, if not quite as rapid as Kirk would have liked, not enough yet to let him reach an orgasm.

"Jim..." McCoy's hand touched his face, and he turned his head to kiss the palm.

"Bones," he said softly. " _Yes._ "

He trusted McCoy, and that was really what it boiled down to, wasn't it? Trusted him to be there, unconditionally, even if they didn't always agree. McCoy had never let him down in anything that mattered, was the cool head to Jim's hot one if there was any kind of trouble. If McCoy wanted to draw out this encounter, make Kirk wait for his pleasure, Kirk would go along with it.

He raised his hands and found McCoy's thighs, sliding up them to McCoy's dick, still somewhat firm even with Kirk's up his ass. He didn't need to see it to fondle it, feeling the heat and heaviness, the moisture leaking from the tip. McCoy's balls were bouncing against Kirk's stomach, and he waited for an instant where he could cup his hand around them, tugging gently.

"Oh, that's _fine_ ," murmured McCoy. His movements were becoming a little more erratic now, either because his legs were tiring from the constant flexion, or because he was distracted by Kirk's hands caressing his cock, it didn't matter, and perversely the unpredictability was pushing Kirk up the peak of sensation more rapidly.

"Yeah, oh yeah, come on," Kirk urged, stroking McCoy a little faster. He was fully hard again now, his dick pulsing with the blood racing through it.

Suddenly McCoy stopped moving and Kirk's hands were pulled away. "Damn it, Jim, I said this was going to be about you, not me right now."

Kirk did his best to smirk, although it was hard to tell how effective it was when he couldn't see McCoy's face. "Distracted?"

"Humph."

"Besides, it makes _me_ feel good to make _you_ feel good, you know." Kirk would have raised his eyebrows, but there was no point when they were hidden behind the blindfold.

"Well, if you put it _that_ way." McCoy let go of Kirk's hands, and he immediately resumed his caresses, able to imagine what McCoy's dick must look like now, what expression might be on his face, after having seen them for the last several months.

Almost imperceptibly, McCoy increased his tempo, still erratic, and the heat and urgency in Kirk's balls and dick began to build up, moving inexorably to a peak. He cried out, "Bones, oh fuck, Bones!" and came, spurting deep into McCoy's body.

"Jim, Jim." McCoy's hand closed over Kirk's on his cock, encouraging him to pump faster, harder, and then McCoy's ass tightened, milking the last drops from Kirk's dick as his semen spattered over Kirk's chest. McCoy slumped forward, his weight seeming heavier now that Kirk wasn't distracted, and after a moment Kirk poked him.

"Roll over, you big lunk. I'm not your pillow."

McCoy grumbled, but moved, sliding off Kirk's now-softening cock. "Shall I take this off?" he asked, touching Kirk's cheek below the blindfold. "How did you like it?"

"Yes, off," Kirk agreed. He blinked as light returned. "I liked it; a very good gift. Maybe you'll want to try it sometime too?"

"Maybe," McCoy agreed. "But right now I'd better clean up and get my suitcase packed. Early start tomorrow, remember."

"How could I forget?"

Kirk got up too, to wash the stickiness away before he slid back into bed to watch McCoy do his packing. Some time in the middle of that, listening to McCoy hum tunelessly, he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from the Depeche Mode song "A Question of Lust."


	15. Time Will Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy and Kirk travel to Atlanta for McCoy to visit his daughter Joanna.

The shuttle to Atlanta was on time.

McCoy still didn't like them, although he had worked hard to overcome his aviophobia. The _level_ of fear that he felt was irrational, but there _was_ some justification in fact for its existence. Only six years ago there had been that crash of the Canberra flight, after all. Resolutely he pulled his thoughts away from that and looked at Kirk, relaxed in the seat beside him.

"You gonna throw up on me again?" Kirk grinned. "Don't feel you have to. I mean, we're already introduced, now."

McCoy had to chuckle at his cockiness. "I hope I won't," he said honestly, "but no promises."

A warning chime sounded.

"One minute until takeoff," announced a disembodied voice.

Kirk rested his hand on McCoy's arm, and now the ready smile was a sympathetic one.

Trying to smile back, McCoy closed his eyes.

The flight was uneventful, and they arrived in Atlanta a scant hour and a half later. The ten-thirty crowd here was significantly larger than the six o'clock one had been in San Francisco, and it took a while to collect their bags, but even with that and some difficulty in finding a cab, they had reached the hotel by noon.

"Reservation for McCoy," he told the desk clerk.

She tapped on her keyboard, peering at the screen intently, and nodded.

"You're in luck, Mr. McCoy. That room was unoccupied last night, so I can check you in right now, if you'd like." Her dazzling smile was directed not at him, however, but over his shoulder at Kirk.

"Thank you, yes." He passed her his identification to be swiped, then accepted a pair of key cards. "Come on, Jim."

Kirk smiled back at the woman, but his attention was all on McCoy as they headed for the elevators. Their room was on the twenty-second floor, and boasted a view of the city.

"Home sweet home," said Kirk, setting down his suitcase. "Which bed do you want?"

"We're not going to _use_ them both, are we? I only asked for two in case Joanna comes here. I don't want to have to explain things to her... especially not if Jocelyn happened to come up with her." He scowled at the thought. "But I'd rather share a bed with you, if that's okay."

"Sure. Better than last night when it was squash into that narrow cadet bed with you or borrow your roomie's. The bed by the window, then, and I want the window side."

"That's fine." McCoy would rather have the side closer to the bathroom anyway. "I'll just hang up my clothes, and then try to call Joanna. We can get another cab to pick her up."

"I meant to ask, why didn't you arrange to rent a car if we're going to be going all over the city with Joanna?" Kirk watched as McCoy unpacked.

"I don't much like city driving, especially cities I don't know well, and I never lived here." McCoy slipped a hanger into a jacket. "It seemed easier to just take cabs or maybe buses."

"You should have asked me. I love driving."

McCoy knew that all too well, having heard Kirk's stories of his teenage years, during which he had totaled no fewer than three vehicles although he'd walked away without a scratch each time. Pure dumb luck, and McCoy didn't want to risk Joanna to Kirk's driving, even if he _had_ probably calmed down a little by now.

"Too much trouble. Don't worry about it." He finished hanging the final pair of trousers, shoved socks and underwear into a drawer, and put his toiletry kit on the bathroom counter. "Okay, I'm going to call now."

Kirk nodded, flinging himself down on the bed they weren't planning to sleep in.

McCoy picked up the receiver and dialed, nerving himself to speak to his ex-wife.

The phone rang. And rang, and rang, and rang. Then an unfamiliar male voice said, "This is Brian Whitworth. Please leave a message and we will return your call as soon as possible."

The new husband. Grimly, McCoy waited for the tone and said in the calmest voice he could muster, "Jocelyn, this is Leonard. It's a little after noon and I'm here in Atlanta, at the Peachtree Hotel, room 2207." He looked at the placard on the phone and gave her the hotel's number. "I would like to see Joanna this afternoon, so please call me back or have Joanna call. Thank you."

He hung up and stared at the phone for a moment.

"Do you think your ex is up to her usual tricks?" Kirk's voice interrupted his angry thoughts.

"I don't know. It _is_ lunch time; I'll give it maybe an hour, then try again. I think I have her mobile phone number somewhere, too, if she hasn't changed it. She doesn't want Joanna to have one until she's twelve."

"Don't worry about it yet, then." Kirk got up and came to put his arms around McCoy. "I'd suggest that we could explore the city for a while, but I'm sure you want to wait to see if she'll call back, so how about if we make out instead, to pass the time?"

The matter-of-fact tone in which he proposed it made McCoy chuckle despite his annoyance. "It's better than sitting around, I suppose," he teased, keeping his voice serious.

Kirk put on a mock pout. "So making out with me is boring?"

" _Never_ boring." McCoy tipped his head and bit at Kirk's neck, pushing aside fabric to reach the hollow of his throat. Civilian clothes were so much better for this than Starfleet uniform.

"We don't have to stay standing up," Kirk pointed out.

"No, but if we lie down then we might get a little over-excited, given that hopefully Joanna will be calling back soon."

Kirk shrugged. "Leave the video pickup switched off, then. No problem."

"That's an idea." McCoy let himself be maneuvered onto the bed, toeing off his shoes as he lay down. "Still, I don't think I want to be naked when my daughter calls."

"If you were taking a shower, you would be," said Kirk in an innocent tone.

McCoy poked him. "That's different and you know it."

"Just a matter of perspective." Kirk ran a hand down McCoy's arm from shoulder to wrist, then up again over his ribs. "Can I persuade you to take your shirt off, at least?"

"I suppose so." He was wearing a blue turtleneck, and sat up to tug it over his head, tossing it onto the other bed where it was soon joined by Kirk's shirt.

"That's better." Kirk ran his fingers through the hair on McCoy's chest. "Hey, there's a gray hair here."

"Don't remind me. I know I'm getting old."

"You're not _old_ ," Kirk protested. "Older than I am, sure, but not _old_. You're not even thirty yet, and aren't most of the other medical cadets older than you are?"

"Medical, yeah, but the average age of a cadet is younger than you. All those teenaged geniuses running around; I could almost be their father."

"Well, I don't care. And you may have a few gray hairs but they only make you look more distinguished, so there." Kirk ducked his head and pressed his lips to the offending spot.

It was amazing to be lying here like this, half naked in the early afternoon, not working or studying or doing anything useful, just kissing until he kept from going further only because of his conviction that if he let things get too out of hand, that would be the moment Joanna called. The skin of Kirk's back was warm and smooth under his fingers as he held him tight, kissing him with long slow – but nevertheless enthusiastic – kisses. Kirk was obviously just as aroused, making little noises in his throat and sliding his leg between McCoy's so that he could rub up against McCoy's thigh.

"You feel good, Bones." Kirk's face was flushed and eager. "Come on."

"Later. Tonight," McCoy promised hoarsely. "Even taking Joanna out to dinner, we won't be back _that_ late. She does have a bedtime still."

"Good, because you know I'm gonna be thinking about you, about _this_ , the whole time." Kirk grinned. "Maybe not _every_ second, but..."

"Maybe we'd better stop now then, save up all this sexual tension for tonight?" McCoy suggested.

"Not necessary, not for me." Kirk was still rocking, pumping himself against McCoy's leg. "That's hours and hours from now."

"True enough," McCoy acknowledged. He twisted a little, reaching between the two of them to adjust things so that he wouldn't be too badly chafed by seam or zipper, and proceeded to join Kirk in rubbing himself to a sticky but glorious orgasm, watching Kirk's face, his eyes half-closed as he came too.

"Mm. That was just what I needed," Kirk said with a look of satisfaction.

"Me, too." Although now he'd have to change at least his underwear; he'd look and see if his trousers were all right.

Naturally it was while he was in the bathroom cleaning up, with nothing on but his socks, that the phone rang.

"Want me to answer that?" called Kirk from the other room.

"No, I've got it." McCoy hurried out to answer, remembering to leave the video switched off. "Hello?"

"Daddy?"

"Joanna, sweetheart. I'm so glad to hear from you. I got in only a little while ago and called right away; I guess you heard my message?"

"We were having lunch with Grandma Patricia."

McCoy supposed that must be Whitworth's mother. "Are you going to be able to visit with me today?"

"We're at Grandma Patricia's right now. You could come pick me up here?" Joanna asked hopefully.

"Yes, of course. Just give me the address and I'll be there as soon as I can get a cab, all right?"

He had to wait a moment while she found out the street address – not something a nine-year-old would remember, if she even knew it – and then promised again that he would be there as soon as possible before hanging up.

"Do you want to go alone?"

McCoy turned to see Kirk watching him, his expression indecipherable.

"No." He cleared his throat. "No, I want you with me."

"Great." Kirk jumped up. "I'll be ready in two minutes."

It was actually more like ten before they were both dressed and ready to go. McCoy made sure he had the piece of paper with the address on it, and patted his pocket to check that he had the hotel key, too.

The concierge at the front desk was happy to put them into a cab, but it took a good twenty minutes to reach "grandma Patricia's" house.

"How long has it been since you've seen Joanna, anyhow?" Kirk asked.

McCoy scowled. "A year and a half. Not since the first summer I was at the Academy."

"That must be weird for you."

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." McCoy realized that he was gripping his knee hard enough that the skin showed white around the knuckles. Deliberately, he relaxed it. "I feel like I won't know her."

Kirk reached over and took McCoy's hand, threading their fingers together. "It'll be fine. You write her all the time, you talk on the phone, you know how things are with her. It'll be okay. Really."

"I know." McCoy sighed. "Look, when we get there, could you stay in the cab? I have no interest in chatting with Jocelyn, and if you're waiting that'll give me a reason to keep things short."

"Fine." Kirk gave a short laugh. "But you don't mind if I want to meet her _once_ before we go, do you?"

"No, of course not. I'm sure we'll pick up Joanna at her own house on other days. There'll be a chance for me to introduce you to Jocelyn." McCoy just hoped Kirk would behave. No use worrying about it now.

The cab had turned into a neighborhood with huge houses, each a veritable fortress behind its own iron gates, with call boxes to prevent unauthorized entry. McCoy snorted softly.

"When we reach the house, tell whoever answers that Dr. McCoy is here to pick up his daughter Joanna," he instructed the driver, who nodded.

McCoy couldn't hear what the person on the other end said to the driver, but the gates swung open silently, and the cab glided up the long driveway to stop at the end of a walk that led to a broad white porch.

"I'll be right back," he told Kirk.

He was just reaching for the bell when the door was flung open, and Joanna darted out. She must have been watching through the window, McCoy thought, stooping to hug her tightly.

"Let's look at you, then," he said, kneeling and holding her at arm's length. Her hair had grown long, though she had it caught up in a barrette on the top of her head to keep it out of her face. Serious brown eyes gazed at him from below pale straight brows. "Are you a sight for sore eyes." He kissed her and then hugged her again, delighted that she returned the embrace unhesitatingly.

"Thank you for the books, Daddy," she said. "I already read _Dragonsong_ yesterday; it was really good."

"You're welcome." He breathed in the little-girl smell of her, still familiar even after so long.

"Hello, Leonard."

He looked up to see Jocelyn standing there, and gently unwound Joanna's arms from his neck, keeping hold of her hand as he rose.

"Jocelyn. You're looking well."

She smiled coolly. "Thank you. I'd like you to have Joanna home by nine, please. She needs her sleep." Jocelyn's face scarcely moved as she spoke. She'd read somewhere that doing so caused wrinkles, McCoy recalled. "Now, Joanna, be a good girl with your father and I'll see you tonight."

Joanna nodded. "Bye, Mama."

Jocelyn retreated into the house, the door closing firmly behind her. McCoy blinked. He really _had_ expected Jocelyn to try to drag him inside, perhaps purportedly for a drink, in fact to show off her new and financially successful life, but he was just as happy to be spared that, for the moment at least. He smiled down at his daughter and squeezed her hand.

"I thought we might go to the zoo, if that sounds good to you, and then out for dinner somewhere. If you have a special place you'd like to go, we can eat there either tonight or one of the other days I'm here, all right?"

"Yes. I haven't been to the zoo in ages. Can we see the tigers?"

"Of course," McCoy assured her. "Tigers first on the list."

Joanna skipped next to him as they crossed to the cab, then stopped suddenly as she saw Kirk sitting in the back seat. "Who's that?" She looked up at him quickly.

McCoy opened the cab door and gestured to Kirk to come out.

"Joanna, this is my friend Jim Kirk. He's a cadet at Starfleet Academy too, and since he doesn't have any family on Earth to spend his holidays with, he came along with me."

"Hi, Joanna." Kirk held out his hand.

"Hi, Mr. Kirk," said Joanna, still holding onto her father's hand even as she shook Kirk's.

"You can call me Jim, you don't need to call me Mr. Kirk." Kirk grinned. "Actually, if you call me that, I probably won't know that you're talking to me."

"Okay." Joanna smiled shyly.

"Shall we go?" McCoy urged.

They climbed back into the cab, Joanna and McCoy in back, Kirk now sitting up front by the driver, whom McCoy told to go on to the zoo.

They spent several hours there, seeing the tigers first as requested, then going around most although not all of the other exhibits. About midafternoon, Joanna said she was hungry and they stopped for a snack. They sat in a row on a bench near the monkey and ape exhibits while Joanna nibbled slowly at an enormous chocolate-chip cookie.

Kirk finished his own cookie and wandered off to look at the chimpanzees. Unconsciously McCoy turned his head to follow his progress.

"Is he going to be with us all the time you're here?" Joanna asked, and McCoy quickly turned his head back to her.

"He doesn't have to be. Why, don't you like him?"

Joanna shrugged. "He's pretty nice. I like the way he tells stories, like the one about cows. I didn't know you could tip a cow over. But I thought this was supposed to be a visit for you to see _me_." She sounded wistful.

"Of course it is, sweetheart. We have three more whole days after this one, and I'm sure Jim will want to do some things by himself; he's never been to this part of the country before. Although maybe, I don't know, there is someplace special you'd like to show both of us? Somewhere you like to go, or that you learned about in school?" He put his arm around her shoulders.

"Maybe," Joanna said doubtfully. "I'll think about it." She took another bite of her cookie and leaned a little forward to look around McCoy at Kirk. "Daddy?"

"Yes?"

She chewed her lip for a minute, looking older than her years. "Is Jim your boyfriend?"

 _Out of the mouths of babes._ He should have known that she might guess, he thought ruefully. Joanna was smart as a whip. He wasn't sure what to say, though. "We've been seeing each other for a few months," he hedged slightly.

"I thought so." Joanna's reaction was calm, to McCoy's relief. "Are you going to get married?"

McCoy almost choked on the tea he was drinking. "We haven't talked about that."

"You should," said Joanna definitely. "He's much nicer than Brian."

Now wasn't the time, but McCoy resolved to ask Joanna more about what it was like to live with her mother and stepfather. Jocelyn might have custody, but by God McCoy was not going to let anything bad happen to his daughter if he could possibly help it. Probably it was fine – for all her faults, Jocelyn was basically a good mother – but if McCoy was going to go off-planet, perhaps for years, he didn't want to have to be worrying about Joanna living with a stepfather who didn't treat her well. He'd seen what happened with Kirk, in a similar situation, although Kirk's mother had been gone too.

"I'll keep that suggestion in mind. Are you finished? Shall we go see the monkeys?"

She nodded and stood up, brushing crumbs off her jacket and trotting to the nearest trash can to throw away her crumpled napkin.

Kirk waved at them as they walked over. "I wanted to say, Joanna, thanks for having me come along with you and your dad. I'm having a really good time."

Joanna smiled, and this time when they started walking, although she still held onto McCoy's hand, she put her other in Kirk's.

She couldn't decide what restaurant she wanted to go to that night, so they ended up at a little place called Cajun Annie's, where they all had cups of vegetarian gumbo filled with okra and peppers and onions, and then McCoy had jambalaya and Joanna and Kirk each had a po' boy sandwich, Joanna's with shrimp and Kirk's with oysters; he'd winked at McCoy while ordering, but it took a moment for McCoy to remember that oysters had once been touted as an aphrodisiac.

A rather decadent chocolate bread pudding finished off the meal, during which Joanna had mostly chattered on about learning to ride a horse, a topic on which Kirk had plenty to say too. By then it was getting late enough that McCoy decided they had better take Joanna home.

"What time tomorrow shall I pick you up?" he asked.

She scrunched up her face. "Nine o'clock?" she said in doubtful tones.

"Do you need to check with your mom?" Kirk suggested, and Joanna nodded.

"I'll tell you what," McCoy said. "Check with your mother, but I'll assume that nine o'clock is fine unless you call me to say otherwise, sound good?"

"Yes," she agreed.

He got out of the cab so that he could hug her goodnight properly, and she waved at Kirk, still inside.

"Goodnight, Jim. It was very nice to meet you."

McCoy walked her the few steps to her door, saying quietly, "You don't need to tell your mother that Jim is anything but a friend of mine, okay?"

"Okay." She wrinkled her nose at him and smiled. "Mama would be funny about it, wouldn't she?"

"She would," McCoy agreed fervently. He bent down and kissed her again. "Goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"G'night, Daddy." She opened the door and went in.

"The Peachtree Hotel," McCoy told the cab driver, and leaned back with a sigh.

"What's wrong? I had a good time, didn't you? Joanna is a great little girl, not that I expected anything else from your daughter," Kirk said.

"She's already guessed, about you and me."

Kirk was silent for a moment, then said, "Is that a problem?"

"No. It didn't seem to bother her at all. I'd just rather not have Jocelyn figure it out... but that may not be possible."

"It may not."

They dropped the topic then and instead talked about some of the animals they'd seen. It had been years since either of them had been to a zoo, and McCoy was glad he'd had the idea.

"It's not all that late," Kirk remarked when they reached the hotel. "You want to go out and do something? There must be decent nightlife, in a city like this."

McCoy thought about it. "I'm pretty beat, actually," he admitted. "I shouldn't be; it's not even seven o'clock, West Coast time, but with traveling and everything, it's been a busy day. Rain check?"

"You're not planning to go to bed right _now_ , are you?"

"No, I'm not that tired, just not up to going out. I brought the rest of that bottle of whiskey from last night and we could have a drink in our room, watch television or something."

"Or something," Kirk murmured, a smile twitching up the side of his mouth.

"Yes, well." McCoy cleared his throat, glancing around the lobby as they walked through it although neither of them had said anything untoward.

"I made sure to pack my Christmas present, you know." Kirk's grin grew wider. He put his hand on the small of McCoy's back, guiding him as they stepped into the elevator. "I'd be happy to share it again."

"With such an offer, how can I say no?" joked McCoy.

"You can't, which is all to the good."

Once in their room, Kirk said, "I really did enjoy today, I want you to know. It was fun, being with you and Joanna. Maybe tomorrow, though, I shouldn't tag along the whole time? Give you a chance to do the father-daughter thing without someone else around. I can do some poking around the city, or if all else fails, I did bring some reading to do for next term; asked a couple of the profs and got them to tell me what the first few assignments were."

"That'd be good, yeah." McCoy was relieved that he wouldn't have to tell Kirk that he didn't want him to come along the next day. He did want him, but Joanna had to come first, and she obviously wanted to spend some time alone with her father, understandably.

Kirk shrugged. "When I was a kid, and my mom came back from a tour of duty, I used to want her to pay attention to just me. I figure Joanna might feel the same way, even though she does have one parent she lives with all the time."

"Yeah. Thanks, Jim."

"Anyhow, since I'm being so good, not butting in on your time with Joanna too much and not bugging you to go out again tonight, I think I deserve a drink, don't you?"

"Definitely." McCoy had stashed the whiskey bottle in a drawer, and now he pulled it out. "I think there are some glasses by the sink. Grab a couple?"

He gave them each a generous tot, knocked back a good swallow and refilled his glass.

"Slow down there, sailor." Kirk chuckled. "I know you have a high tolerance, but for what I have in mind I want you in full working order."

"Oh yeah?" McCoy took off his shoes, and with a sigh sat down on the bed they'd chosen, propping himself up against the pillows. "And just what did you have in mind?"

Kirk posed, turned so that his ass was toward McCoy, looking over his shoulder flirtatiously. "Would you say that I had a nice butt?" He wiggled it so that there could be no mistake.

"Oh yeah." McCoy took another gulp of his drink. "I don't think there's any doubt of that. Rumor had it that you were voted cutest ass last year at the engineers' end-of-term party."

"Yup, I was, but tastes do differ. Glad to know you agree with the general opinion."

"Mm-hm. So what _about_ your cute butt?"

"I'm gonna let you fuck it, that's what. You should be honored, Bones." There was a hint of worry in Kirk's eyes, although his grin was as cocky as McCoy had ever seen it.

"You're sure?" McCoy couldn't help saying.

"Very sure." Kirk took a deep breath. "I've thought about it, and I want this with you." He grinned again. "You always seem to really like it when I fuck _you_ , so why should you have all the fun?"

"Why, indeed," McCoy murmured.

He hadn't expected this, but he wasn't fool enough to turn down such an offer. He did wonder a little, though, if it meant as much to Kirk as it did to himself. Time would just have to tell.


	16. More Than Physical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk follows through on his offer to McCoy, then spends a day alone in Atlanta.

Kirk was kind of bothered by the fact that McCoy asked if he was _sure_ that he wanted McCoy to fuck him. He told himself, though, that it was just McCoy being careful and caring and a little doctor-ly, not that he really thought Kirk didn't mean it. And he could tolerate McCoy being that way, because that was what made him _McCoy_ , after all.

He had to hold on hard to that toleration, though, because McCoy insisted on discussing it, when all Kirk wanted was to get on with things.

"You know that not all men enjoy penetration, right? And that's okay. If you're not enjoying it, tell me, because I don't want to be having a good time if you're lying there going, 'I wish he'd hurry up and finish.' If it actually _hurts_ , tell me right away. I have a basic medical kit with me, but it's really basic. Okay?" He frowned a little at Kirk, who raised his hands to fend off the glare.

"Okay, okay. If it really hurts, I'll tell you, I promise. You're not being very encouraging here, you realize."

McCoy huffed out an impatient breath. "Look, it'll probably be fine. Hell, with my luck you'll like it so well that you'll never want to fuck _me_ anymore. I just want to be on the safe side, that's all."

"I really doubt that's going to happen, even if it's the most fantastic experience of my life," Kirk said. His dick was getting hard just at the recollection of what it felt like to be buried in McCoy's ass. He couldn't imagine never wanting _that_ again.

McCoy started to take off his clothes, but stopped in the act of unzipping his trousers to look speculatively at Kirk.

"What?"

"I was just thinking, do you want to shower together first? The shower's a lot bigger than the ones in cadet quarters."

"Sure." Kirk finished stripping down and, carrying his still half-full glass of whiskey, went into the bathroom to turn on the water.

The hotel provided the standard little bottles of shampoo and so on, he was happy to note, and for a wonder they weren't scented with rose or some other sweet flower, but instead a fragrance that was vaguely herbal, mint or pine or something, he couldn't quite decide. He set the shampoo next to the miniature bar of soap on the soap dish.

"Aren't you ready yet, Bones?" he called out. "I'm getting in."

"Be right there."

Kirk was already in the shower, lathering up, when McCoy pulled the curtain back and joined him.

"Turn it up a little hotter?" he requested.

As Kirk bent to do so, McCoy patted his butt familiarly.

"I definitely agree with those engineering students who voted this as cutest ass at the Academy last year," he commented.

"Well, it's all yours tonight." Kirk straightened and turned so that he could put his arms around McCoy.

"I know." McCoy fastened his mouth to the hollow of Kirk's throat, sucking hard. If he left a mark, Kirk's shirt should cover it... although since Joanna had already guessed at their relationship, it shouldn't really matter. Kirk didn't care anyhow.

He ran his hands up and down McCoy's back, groping his ass a little while he was at it. When McCoy's lips started traveling upward, though, he twisted his head a bit to meet them. It was amazing how much of a turn-on he found McCoy's kisses, heated and hungry, as if he could never get enough. His tongue probed, prodding at Kirk's, practically devouring him.

Kirk shifted his weight, stepping so that his left thigh was thrust between McCoy's legs, rubbing his dick up against McCoy's hip.

McCoy broke off kissing long enough to mutter, "Don't get off too soon, now," but then he bent and bit at Kirk's nipple, and Kirk had to groan, it felt so good. He raised his hand, scrabbling to hold onto something, and clutched at the shower curtain while McCoy continued his downward path, heedless of the water cascading over him.

Though he knew they weren't really, McCoy's lips seemed hotter than the water as they slid around Kirk's dick, sucking just the tip until he was begging for more, futilely trying to thrust as McCoy's hands held his hips steady.

Kirk whimpered as McCoy's tongue lapped at him, curling his fist into the shower curtain in an effort to stay upright. Unexpectedly two of the rings that held the curtain in place snapped open, and Kirk lurched as they gave way.

McCoy felt the movement and rolled his eyes up to see what was happening. He let go of Kirk's dick with a slurping sound and said, "Maybe we'd better take this back to the bed, huh?"

Dazed, Kirk nodded agreement.

They toweled off quickly, just enough so that the sheets would not become soaked and uncomfortable. Kirk spread himself across the bed.

"Where'd you put that lube?" McCoy asked.

"Oh." Kirk got up again and found it in the drawer. "Here."

"Okay. Um." McCoy's throat worked. "I know we've done this in various positions with me on the bottom. Do you have a strong preference for yourself? I think it might be easiest, I'd have the most control, if you're on your hands and knees, but..."

"I'd rather see your face," said Kirk honestly, "but I'll let you decide what you think would be best."

"Maybe we can start out with you kneeling and see how it goes, then switch if that seems feasible," McCoy decided.

"Right." Kirk knelt on the bed, keeping his knees apart to allow McCoy room between his legs. McCoy's hands smoothed gently down his back and over his ass cheeks, parting them. He pressed a kiss to the base of Kirk's spine, mumbling something indistinguishable, and then to his great astonishment Kirk felt McCoy's tongue tracing along his crack and over the pucker of his asshole.

"Fuck!"

McCoy lapped at the spot for a moment, then moved over Kirk's perineum to lick his balls from behind.

Kirk groaned. "Bones, fuck, come on, don't fuck around."

With a chuckle, McCoy gave one last noisy lick to Kirk's ball sac. The mattress shifted as he backed off and reached for the lube.

"This is gonna feel cool," he warned, and Kirk flinched slightly as one gel-slicked fingertip touched his hole, pressing against it until the sphincter relaxed and Kirk felt McCoy's finger entering.

"Okay?" whispered McCoy hoarsely, and Kirk realized he'd stopped breathing.

"Yeah." He let out the breath he'd been holding and tried to resume a normal pattern. "Yeah." It felt strange, but not _bad_ , as McCoy moved, coaxing Kirk's ass to relax and open up for him. When McCoy added more lube and a second finger, Kirk sighed and tentatively pushed back against him, gasping when McCoy's finger brushed over his prostate.

McCoy's other hand stroked his hip and reached for his dick, which Kirk realized was no longer fully hard, but it didn't seem to matter, because all of what McCoy was doing felt so good.

"I'm gonna put one more finger in," McCoy said.

"No." Kirk twisted his head to clear back at McCoy. "Just go ahead and fuck me now. I promise I'll tell you if it hurts."

McCoy looked as though he might demur, but he took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay." His fingers slid out, leaving Kirk feeling strangely empty for a moment while McCoy slicked his cock, but shortly his ass was flexing and the sensation of fullness returned as the head of McCoy's dick pressed into him. Kirk's eyes squeezed shut. It did hurt, just a little bit, more of a stretchy burn though as McCoy pushed all the way inside.

"Hang on," Kirk muttered, and McCoy held still, one hand rubbing circles over Kirk's lower back until Kirk relaxed enough to say, "Okay, you can move now."

"Jim, god, Jim." McCoy's voice broke. He was thrusting slowly, each movement making Kirk shudder with unaccustomed sensations, but most of all with the knowledge that it was _McCoy_ doing this, making him feel as he'd never felt before. A more than physical need and desire for the other man overwhelmed him.

Now that he had relaxed somewhat, it wasn't uncomfortable, and when one of McCoy's thrusts brushed over his prostate, it felt positively good. It really was a different experience altogether, being the person who was fucked rather than the one doing the fucking; he wondered briefly if any woman felt cheated because she could never have the opportunity to try both sides the same way, not without using a dildo, and somehow that didn't seem as if it could be the same. But he was happy, right now, to be passive, relatively speaking, to let McCoy find the same pleasure in Kirk's body as he had already so often found in McCoy's. McCoy was beginning to move a little more erratically now, which Kirk knew meant that he was close to coming. That was all right. Enjoying this though he was, his ass was already starting to feel a little sore from the unaccustomed stretching, and he didn't want to have to tell McCoy to stop.

"Fuck, so tight Jim, so good," McCoy was muttering, clutching at Kirk's hips, burying his dick deeply with every movement.

"Yeah Bones, come on, I wanna feel it, yeah," Kirk encouraged him, and finally McCoy gave one short sharp cry and a final push, and Kirk knew that he must have come although he couldn't feel very much, not until McCoy withdrew and a trickle of warm fluid followed, dripping down Kirk's thighs.

"Are you okay?" McCoy asked, his voice slightly worried. "I was maybe a little rough there toward the end."

"No, it was fine," Kirk assured him. Turning over to give McCoy a grin, he winced slightly as his ass hit the mattress, and McCoy scowled.

"I _told_ you to tell me if it hurt. I should take a look, make sure you're not bleeding or anything."

"If you really must, but it's just a little sore, you know, using muscles that aren't accustomed to that particular exercise." Kirk managed a very sincere grin. "If you're gonna do an examination, I'd rather you examined my dick instead." He took it in his hand and waggled it at McCoy.

"Or you could fuck me, if you wanted?" McCoy raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

"Nah. C'mere and kiss me while you're jerking me off; that's all I want right now."

"Okay. I'll check to make sure you're all right afterward." Then McCoy's hands closed around Kirk's dick, stroking firmly, while his lips and tongue met Kirk's in a fiercely tender kiss.

It wasn't long before Kirk felt his orgasm approaching, and he pulled McCoy closer as it hit and he shot sticky strands of come all over McCoy's hands.

"I," he began, intending to say "I love you" – _no, not ready for that_ – and instead finishing, "It was good, Bones; I can see why you like bottoming, although I don't think I'd want to do it all the time or even most of it, myself." He brushed his lips lightly over McCoy's, and brought their foreheads together.

McCoy exhaled. "I'm glad it was good for you. Another time we can try a face-to-face position, all right?"

Kirk had almost forgotten that that was what he had originally wanted, but he said, "Yes," anyway. And come to think of it, it _would_ be nice to be able to see McCoy's expression while he was fucking, see if it was any different from the one he wore when Kirk was fucking him.

After a little bit, Kirk got up and went to get a spare washcloth to mop up the damp patches they'd created.

"Let me just take a quick look," McCoy ordered him, and, rolling his eyes, Kirk turned around to let McCoy gave him a cursory examination. "Everything seems okay," McCoy said, relief evident in his voice. "No tearing or bleeding, just a little swelling and redness, that's all."

Kirk crawled back into bed. "Bones."

"What?"

"Right at the beginning, you, uh, you licked my ass. I thought you said that was really unhygienic?"

"Yeah." McCoy sounded embarrassed. "It is, and I probably shouldn't have risked it, but you had just showered, and your ass was just too tempting. I couldn't resist. Did it bother you?"

Kirk shook his head. "It surprised me, but it felt really good, actually." Although he had been surprised enough that the memory was already unclear, he could say that with assurance.

"Good." McCoy was quiet for a minute. "Damn. No computer light control in this room, is there?" He rolled over and fumbled to switch off the bedside lamp, then returned to curl up against Kirk, spooning with him. "I'm glad you suggested coming here with me," he murmured, and Kirk reached around awkwardly to pat him.

"Me, too," he said.

At some point when Kirk hadn't been paying attention, maybe when he'd been starting the shower, McCoy had evidently set the alarm, because it went off with a loud jangle at seven-thirty. McCoy had shifted, and now sprawled on his back, snoring, one hand resting on Kirk's leg.

"Bones." Kirk poked him, and McCoy grumbled and muttered and reached to slap the alarm off.

"Gotta shower and grab a bite maybe in that restaurant off the lobby, and then I'm off to pick up Joanna," McCoy said, swinging his feet off the bed and looking very temptingly disheveled, at least in Kirk's opinion, although he knew better than to suggest McCoy do anything that might make him late to meet his daughter.

"Maybe I'll see if the concierge at the desk has any suggestions for tourists," Kirk said lightly, glad to see that McCoy's face brightened to know that Kirk wouldn't be hanging around, bored. "You go have a good time with Joanna, and then we can meet back here to go have dinner?"

McCoy nodded. "That would be great." He brushed a kiss over Kirk's forehead and hurried into the shower. Kirk decided that he would just pull on some clothes so that the two of them could have breakfast together; he would shower and change after McCoy had left.

In the restaurant, McCoy ordered grits along with his eggs. After a bite, however, he pulled a slight face.

"Instant. I should have figured as much. Oh, well." Nevertheless he ate most of the bowlful.

Kirk had eggs and sausages and biscuits. The biscuits were the best he'd ever eaten. He tried a bite of McCoy's grits, and they weren't _awful_ or anything, but he certainly couldn't see why anyone would get excited about them, under any circumstances, even if the non-instant type might be somewhat better.

"I think you have to grow up southern to like grits," McCoy told him, drinking the last of his coffee.

They put the bill onto the hotel tab and went back into the lobby so McCoy could get a cab. Kirk wanted to kiss him goodbye, but he was pretty sure that any such public display of affection would make McCoy uncomfortable, so instead he just clapped him on the shoulder in farewell. Then he went to the desk to inquire as to what attractions Atlanta might have on offer for a first-time tourist.

"We went to the zoo yesterday," he said, smiling at the woman behind the desk, the same one as yesterday, he thought, although he hadn't looked all that carefully at her. "What would you suggest?"

"There are dozens of possibilities; it depends on what sort of thing you enjoy." She gave a flirtatious smile back. "There's a narrated bus tour that goes past all the important twentieth- and twenty-first-century landmarks if you like historical things. Or the old aquarium is supposed to be excellent. That was refurbished just a few years ago." She eyed him. "There's some delightful shopping, too, but I guess you're not very interested in that, are you?"

"Not really," he agreed with a chuckle. "The aquarium sounds like something I'd enjoy, though, and do you have a brochure for that bus tour?"

It turned out that the tour lasted a couple of hours, and he could pick it up on a corner several blocks away in forty-five minutes. He returned to the room briefly to brush away the taste of stale coffee from his teeth and use the shower before ambling out to pick up the bus.

The tour proved only moderately absorbing, but Kirk's ass was a little tender from last night, so he decided that sitting on the cushioned seat was better than walking around the whole morning, even if it wasn't the most exciting thing he'd ever done. He was able to let his mind drift to the night before any time he got bored.

He had picked up a regular bus schedule at the hotel and was able to determine that he could reach the aquarium with just one change, so he went there next and had lunch in its restaurant. It seemed odd to be eating fish at an aquarium, but his sandwich was tasty.

This had been a good choice, he decided as he wandered slowly through the exhibits. In just a few short months – assuming all went well – he would be in space, and was unlikely to have much chance to see anything like this again for years. He paused, standing before a tank containing a small shark, admiring the way it cut through the water with such economical motion, the perfect predator in its own element.

He dug out the handful of other leaflets that the desk clerk had pressed on him and flipped through the stack. Atlanta also had a botanical garden, he saw. Perhaps he would go there tomorrow or the next day, either by himself or with McCoy and Joanna if they wanted. He tucked the leaflets away again and resumed his stroll through the aquarium, reading the signs on every display and admiring the incredible variety of life they showcased. Iowa had nothing like this, and although he rather thought there was an aquarium in or near San Francisco somewhere, he had never gone to see it; the difference between being a visitor and being a resident, he supposed. You always thought you'd have plenty of time to indulge in all the cultural stuff when you lived somewhere, but in the end might never get around to any of it.

They hadn't fixed an exact time to meet for dinner, but knowing that Joanna probably wasn't going to be permitted to stay out too late, Kirk made sure he was back at the hotel before six. The room had been freshened up, of course, but he could still catch a lingering scent of McCoy. He was tempted to jack off while he waited, but the knowledge that the others might turn up at any time held him back. If he knew it would just be McCoy, that would be all right, but being walked in on by a nine-year-old girl while he was masturbating seemed, well, tacky would be an understatement.

Instead he sprawled across one bed and paged through the tourist brochures again to see if there was anything else he especially wanted to see besides the botanical garden. One leaflet advertised several musical venues, including a jazz club that seemed to be quite close, if he remembered the street names correctly. Maybe he'd suggest that to McCoy, if he could persuade him to go out again after taking Joanna home.

The door clicked open and he looked up to see McCoy and his daughter coming in. Joanna resembled her father quite closely, Kirk realized, except for a more pointed chin and light blonde hair which she must have gotten from her mother. Kirk reminded himself to remind McCoy that he wanted to meet the infamous Jocelyn before they left. Maybe tomorrow.

"Hi, Jim," Joanna said a little shyly.

"Hi, Joanna. Hi, Bones." He grinned at them. "Did you guys have a good day?"

Joanna nodded, and McCoy said, "It was pretty low-key. Joanna had some Christmas money to spend, so we browsed around in one of the malls for a while, and then went to see a movie."

"What movie did you see?"

"Oh, a remake of one of those classic Harry Potter films. I don't remember which one." McCoy shrugged.

" _Daddy_. It was _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_." Joanna rolled her eyes at her father's ignorance. Then she looked at Kirk. "Why did you call him Bones?"

There was an honest answer to her question. Kirk had started using the nickname as a play on McCoy's comment, when they first met, that his ex-wife had left him nothing but his bones after their divorce. He could see McCoy's expression of consternation, though. He knew that McCoy was careful not to badmouth her mother to Joanna, although frankly Kirk doubted that Jocelyn was so scrupulous in return, so he scrambled to come up with a different answer, and recalled an obscure bit of trivia to serve the purpose.

"Well, old-time doctors were sometimes nicknamed 'sawbones' because they did," he explained easily. "Saw bones, that is. So I thought it was a good joke to call your dad that, because he _is_ sometimes old-fashioned in spots, you know." He flashed his sweetest smile at McCoy, who scowled in return. "But 'Sawbones' is kind of a long nickname, so pretty soon I shortened it to just 'Bones.'"

Joanna wrinkled her nose. "That's _weird_."

"Oh, maybe. But you know, friends often give each other special nicknames for fun."

"I suppose." She still sounded dubious, though.

"I think it's time to go get some dinner," McCoy said firmly. "Jim, you ready?"

"Just let me put my shoes and jacket back on and I'm at your command."

He didn't quite mean it as a double entendre, but McCoy raised his eyebrows, leading Kirk to think that whatever they decided to do after dinner and taking Joanna home, it was likely to be an enjoyable evening.


	17. Taking Advantage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the next-to-last day of their visit, and McCoy still hasn't figured out how to let Kirk meet his ex-wife.

One day left in Atlanta after this, and McCoy still hadn't quite figured out how to carry out his promise to Kirk that he could meet Jocelyn.

He worried at the thought as he waited for their dinner to arrive. Joanna had asked to go to a pizza parlor, one where the food was at best mediocre but where there were all sorts of games to entertain the customers. At least three birthdays were being celebrated in various corners, and the restaurant was filled with running and shrieking children. Kirk had apparently reverted to his own childhood and was competing avidly with Joanna on one of the games; McCoy couldn't see what it was from their table. He sipped at his weak beer, now warm, and scowled. Basically there were two options: take Kirk up to the door of Jocelyn's house, having ascertained from Joanna in advance that her mother would be there; or ask Jocelyn to come out and meet them someplace. Neither option appealed to him. Wherever this encounter took place, Jocelyn was as likely as Joanna had been to see through any attempt to pretend that he and Kirk were merely cadet buddies.

He _wasn't_ ashamed of the relationship, he reminded himself. There was nothing in it to be ashamed _of_. He simply disliked the idea of his ex-wife knowing about his current lover, that was all, and he would have felt the same way if Kirk had been a woman. Privacy meant a great deal to McCoy.

Sighing, he decided that when Kirk came back to the table – their pizza ought to arrive at any moment now – he would quietly ask if it made any difference to Kirk whether he met Jocelyn at her home or elsewhere. McCoy doubted he would be so lucky as to have Kirk change his mind and not want to meet her at all.

Their server brought the pizzas. McCoy stood, leaning awkwardly over the table, and waved at Joanna and Kirk. Joanna spotted him first and tugged at Kirk's sleeve to alert him that their dinner was ready.

"I can't believe you beat me," Kirk was saying to Joanna as they walked up. He gave McCoy a grin, unfazed by the fact that he'd lost a game to someone less than half his age. "She has amazing reflexes and a great grasp of spatial tactics, too. You should think about pilot training," he added to Joanna. "Not right away, of course, but when you're old enough."

"Really?" Joanna beamed at him. She grabbed a slice of pizza and took a huge bite, opening her mouth again immediately to suck in air. "Hot," she explained in a muffled voice.

"Does your school offer a pre-pilot training program?" McCoy asked. He'd dutifully looked at all the information Jocelyn had sent when she had enrolled Joanna there, but didn't recall any details, only that it had a good program in science. From what he could tell the school did not encourage cutthroat competition among its students, an attitude he approved.

"I'm not sure," Joanna admitted. She took another bite and scrunched up her face as she chewed. "I _think_ so, as an after-school option. Pat O'Connell is always talking about how he's going to be a pilot someday, and he doesn't take the regular bus home on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"I'll try to find out and tell your mother that you're interested," McCoy promised her.

Joanna wrinkled her nose again. "She won't think it's ladylike enough, I bet. She wanted me to take the art enrichment program this year, but I'm terrible at drawing. That's why I'm learning the viola instead."

"Do you like it?" Kirk asked.

She shook her head, chewing. When she finished and swallowed, she said, "Not really. I'm not very good at it either. But it's better than art would have been, I guess."

"Jim, do you know any arguments that would help persuade Jocelyn that pre-pilot training is a suitable thing for a girl?"

"I'm sure I can come up with a few things, yeah." Confidence practically rolled off Kirk in waves. "To start with, did you know that over half of Starfleet pilots are women?"

"Really?" McCoy's surprise showed in his voice. "I hadn't realized that, no. I wonder why?"

Kirk shrugged. "I suppose they do better on the entry exams. It's not a _totally_ skewed number, something like sixty percent, but enough that it's noticeable. More men in some of the other areas of study balance things out. There's a long history of women pilots, actually; most of the time they've been outnumbered by men, but there were some important early aviatrixes like Amelia Earhart and Jean Batten and Amy Johnson. So it's not as if Joanna would be doing anything really outlandish." He scratched his cheek. "Do you think it would help if _I_ talked to your mom, too?" he asked Joanna, who nodded.

"She doesn't always like to listen to Daddy, but you're cute. She'd listen to you." Then Joanna's eyes went wide and she covered her mouth with her hands. "Oops. I probably shouldn't have said that, should I?"

Kirk laughed. "Probably not, no, but it's good to know someone's weakness if you're trying to persuade them of something, so even if it wasn't diplomatic, it's helpful."

"Joanna, do you know if your mom will be home tomorrow night? I get the impression that she and Brian have a lot of social obligations, but if she'll be around, when we take you home we could talk to her, maybe," said McCoy.

Nodding, Joanna said, "They have a big party the day after tomorrow, and I heard Mama telling Brian that she wanted to stay home tomorrow night. He always works late at his office if they're not doing anything, though."

McCoy wasn't sure whether the absence of Jocelyn's husband would prove to be good or bad, but he nodded. "All right then, sweetheart, we'll just drop you off tonight, and you can tell your mother that I'd like to stop in and talk to her for a little while tomorrow evening, before you and I say goodbye for this visit. Jim will come along too, but you don't need to mention that if you don't want to."

If Jocelyn wanted to make an excuse to avoid seeing him, she could, but avoidance had never been her style and he didn't expect her to. He glanced at Kirk, who nodded and smiled.

"More pizza?" Kirk asked, and suited actions to words by helping himself to another slice.

In the taxi, after they'd taken Joanna back home, Kirk nudged McCoy. "How about going out tonight to that jazz place I learned about, since you weren't up for it yesterday?"

"Okay," McCoy said after a moment's reflection. Kirk had again that day volunteered to let McCoy spend time alone with Joanna, so doing what he wanted this evening seemed only fair. "I guess we don't really even need to go back to the hotel first, if you remember the name of the place and the cab can get us there."

"I do." Kirk leaned forward to tell the driver about the change in destination. "It's still fairly early, so the music may not have started yet by the time we get there, but we can have a drink in the meantime."

"We can."

The club was called the Blue Note, and managed to convey an early twentieth-century feel, despite lacking the pall of cigarette smoke that doubtless would have hung in the air during that era. As expected, the musicians were not yet playing, although a piano, drums, a saxophone on a chair, and a bull fiddle lying on its side in one corner testified to their imminent appearance. The early hour also meant that McCoy and Kirk were able to secure a table in a good spot, about halfway across the room from the band where they should be able to hear the music, but still carry on a conversation if they wanted. McCoy ordered bourbon, but Kirk opted for beer tonight.

It wasn't – strictly speaking – jazz that the group played, McCoy realized after fifteen or twenty minutes. They played in a jazz style, certainly, and improvised beautifully, tossing the melody from one instrument to another, but he'd already recognized one ancient pop standard as well as a couple of jazz classics. Regardless, it was well-played, so he really couldn't complain. On the other side of the table, Kirk was nodding his head gently in time with the drum beat.

It still blew McCoy away that Kirk was _here_. Here in Atlanta specifically, but here in the sense of together, a couple at all, too. A year ago, hell, less than six months ago, he had pretty much accepted that nothing of the sort would ever be possible. He was glad that he'd been proven wrong.

"Jim," he said, just loud enough to be heard over the strains of a tune he recognized but couldn't name.

"Hm?" Kirk turned his head to give his attention to McCoy. God, he was gorgeous. Not in some classical-statuary or even film star way; more that he was supremely relaxed and confident in his own appeal. Their waitress had already flirted with him, and Kirk had flirted right back in automatic fashion, but McCoy could tell that his heart wasn't in it. All the warmth of his smile was saved for McCoy.

"What is it, Bones?" Kirk asked after McCoy had failed to speak for a moment.

"I..." McCoy's throat closed. He couldn't say "I love you" here in public, not even with the music of the band to mask his words from anyone else. He settled for reaching out to clasp Kirk's hand instead. "I'm really enjoying this. Thanks for suggesting it."

"I'm glad." Kirk squeezed his hand in return and interlaced their fingers as he turned back to watch the band.

McCoy pushed away the thought that they had only one more day here together; it might be harder to find time together back at Starfleet Academy, but they'd manage as they'd done before. He still felt uncertain about making their relationship public, although now that it had been going on for more than two months, he was less concerned about looking like a fool, even if – as he still half-expected – it didn't last too much longer. Hell, unless by some miracle they were assigned to the same ship, he didn't see how it would be _possible_ to stay together beyond graduation. Kirk just wasn't the sort to stay celibate for months, let alone years, and honestly, McCoy couldn't blame him for that. He scowled, trying to concentrate on the here and now. They'd stay for a while longer, he supposed, but then they could go back to the hotel and take advantage of the lack of other roommates, as they had their previous nights here. Just thinking about it was getting his dick interested. He felt like he was a horny teenager again. Not a bad thing, maybe, since it let him keep up with Kirk in bed... more or less anyway.

They ended up staying through the second set. Emerging from the building, they discovered that it had started to drizzle lightly, but decided to walk a few blocks back to the hotel anyway, since it wasn't very cold.

"I hope it's not raining tomorrow," Kirk said, squinting up at the clouds, which glowed in the reflected light of the city.

"Why?"

"I was going to suggest that the three of us could see the city's botanical gardens. I thought I might go today by myself, but it seemed like something that would be fun to do with Joanna for a couple of hours." Kirk shrugged. "I'm sure there are plenty of other options, if it _is_ raining."

"The botanical gardens would be a good idea, though, if it isn't." McCoy glanced sideways at Kirk. "You've been really great with Joanna, you know, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate that."

Kirk kicked at a loose stone on the sidewalk, sending it skittering away. "Well, thanks. She's a great kid. I'm glad I had the chance to meet her."

They turned into the hotel lobby and went up to their room.

"What do you want to do tonight?" McCoy embraced Kirk and murmured the question into his neck, following it up with a kiss.

"How about... I was gonna say, how about anything you want, but I think you want me to say exactly what _I_ want tonight, don't you?"

"Yeah." McCoy kissed him again. "We could do something for me tomorrow, maybe."

Kirk gave him a smile that was pure porn. "Hm. How about if I see how long I can keep you on the edge, begging for it, before I let you come?"

McCoy's breath caught. "All right," he agreed hoarsely. It didn't seem like this would be something for Kirk, but if that was what he wanted, McCoy wasn't going to say no.

"First I'm gonna undress you," Kirk informed him, and proceeded to do so, slowly, kissing or licking or biting almost every inch of McCoy's bare skin as he exposed it. By the time he was finished, McCoy's dick was rock hard.

"Now sit there," Kirk gestured at the bed, "and watch me."

It wasn't quite as effective a striptease that as Kirk had done once before – no music, after all, to set the mood – but it was still pretty damned impressive to watch Kirk practically make love to each item of his own clothing as he removed it. McCoy started to wrap his left hand around his aching prick, but Kirk shook his head at him.

"No way, Bones. You don't get to come till _I_ make you come, and it's gonna be a good long while till then."

McCoy sighed, but let his hand drop back to his side as he continued watching Kirk's bump and grind. The way Kirk shimmied his ass reminded of McCoy of how it felt to fuck him, that sweet hot channel embracing his dick tightly; he'd been relieved that Kirk had seemed to enjoy it, but maybe even more relieved that he expressed a preference for topping, on the whole. McCoy loved being under Kirk, the way all of Kirk's attention was focused on him then, as if there were nothing else in the world. He swallowed hard as Kirk unfastened his trousers and let them drop to reveal his briefs, white fabric drawn tight over the bulge of his dick, visibly dark with blood even through the cotton. Kirk ran his palm over it a few times, caressing, and a damp spot appeared near the waistband.

"Jim..." McCoy heard his own voice come out in what was almost a whimper, all unintended, but fuck, he couldn't help it, Kirk was such a tease.

"Want something? You've gotta tell me what you want, then." Kirk grinned at him, but there was an edge in his voice that suggested to McCoy that Kirk might be almost as desperate as he himself was starting to feel.

"I want you to fuck me." McCoy scooted backward on the bed, looking at Kirk, letting all the pleading he felt flow through his gaze.

The blue of Kirk's eyes was reduced to a narrow ring around his dilated pupils. "I'll get the lube." He opened the drawer where they'd stashed it and pulled out the little bottle, but instead of coming straight back to the bed, he said, "Hang on a minute," and disappeared into the bathroom. McCoy heard water running, and frowned a little. Whatever was Kirk doing?

He reappeared holding the lube in one hand and a damp washcloth in the other. "Turn over, Bones. You remember what you did to me? I'm gonna do it to you, now, gonna eat your ass,but I figured you wouldn't let me unless you were clean, so clean you'll be."

"Jim," McCoy began, but Kirk cut him off.

"No saying no to this; I _want_ to try it, really I do."

"I wasn't going to refuse," McCoy said in a gruff voice. "I was only going to say that I want to kiss you again first, because no matter how clean you get me, I have to say I'm not going to be much excited about having your tongue in my mouth after it's been in my ass."

"Fair enough. Let me use this first," Kirk brandished the washcloth, "and then we can kiss as long as you like before moving on to other things. Okay?"

McCoy nodded. "Yeah." He rolled over onto his stomach.

"Kneel up," Kirk suggested. "Easier, I think."

Obediently McCoy got up onto his knees, moving them apart so that Kirk could sit between his legs. The washcloth was cool and just a little rough against tender skin as Kirk wielded it.

"There," Kirk sounded satisfied. "That should do it."

They rearranged themselves to lie entwined, kissing. Their dicks pressed against each other until McCoy couldn't tell whether the throbbing he felt was his own blood pounding or Kirk's. He pushed his hips closer, rocking, until the movement became pronounced enough for Kirk to notice it.

"Naughty," Kirk murmured, sounding amused and licking McCoy's ear lobe. "Not ready to go there quite yet."

"Enough kissing, then." McCoy had consciously to hold back from stroking himself, anything to get that delicious friction back as Kirk moved away.

"Roll over again and get that sexy ass of yours up for me," Kirk said, "because I can't wait any longer either."

McCoy felt Kirk's warm hands move over his ass, spreading him apart, and then Kirk's tongue swiped across his crack, teasing, moving slowly down until the tip of it was tickling the pucker of his asshole. He groaned.

"Fuck, yeah," Kirk mumbled against his skin.

McCoy's head was turned, his cheek pressed against the bed as he tried to remember how to keep breathing. No one had ever done this to him before; his only experience of it, in fact, had been his brief taste of Kirk the other night. He hadn't thought the flavor was too bad, a little sour maybe, but damn, if it felt as fine to Kirk as it did to him, he'd have to try it a little more extensively some time, just to be fair. He wasn't entirely sure whether it was the _actual_ physical sensation or the _idea_ of it that was so erotic, but whichever, it had him so hard that he was afraid he might come just like that, without another touch on his dick.

"Oh, oh, oh god, oh Jim," he moaned, and Kirk responded by slipping his tongue a little deeper, his hands gripping McCoy's ass cheeks as he slurped away.

Somehow McCoy had managed not to have quite come when Kirk stopped, his tongue quickly replaced by his fingers, slick with lube.

"Gonna fuck you now," Kirk grunted, and McCoy reared back to meet him as Kirk's dick pushed into his more than willing hole. Kirk reached around to grab the base of McCoy's dick, helping restrain him from coming. McCoy was so close that he didn't soften even as Kirk's prick pounded into him.

"Bones, Bones, Bones," Kirk chanted with each thrust. "Oh, _fuck_!"

Kirk had lost control, McCoy realized as his movements stopped and he clung, shuddering, with his arms wrapped around McCoy's torso.

"Sorry, old man. Didn't mean to finish so fast." He pulled out, leaving sticky wetness trickling down McCoy's thighs. "Here, turn over."

When McCoy had done so, Kirk immediately bent to take his dick in his mouth, pressing his lips against the tip and then opening them so that McCoy's entire length slid inside, hitting the back of Kirk's throat. He jumped a little at that and backed off, substituting his hand at the base as he eagerly sucked the rest.

McCoy came, fingers squeezing Kirk's shoulders hard enough to leave bruises.

Kirk swallowed the whole load, nice and easy, and nuzzled McCoy's dick clean before sitting back with a most self-satisfied expression.

"You look like the cat who ate the canary," McCoy commented, and Kirk laughed.

"I doubt the cat enjoyed what it ate half as much as I did." He reached up and brushed at his lips, explaining, "A hair."

"Yeah." McCoy glanced around and saw the washcloth where Kirk had left it on one side of the bed. He used it to mop up what remained of Kirk's come on his ass and thighs. "I guess you could tell I liked that, huh?"

Kirk grinned. "I did get that impression, yeah."

"Good." McCoy smiled back.


	18. Worse Things to Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last night that he and McCoy are in Atlanta, Kirk finally meets Jocelyn.

Kirk looked sideways at McCoy as they waited behind Joanna. A muscle jumped in McCoy's cheek, and Kirk wanted to take his hand, tell him to relax, that everything would be fine; but there was no time for that. Joanna had the door open, and was calling, "Mama?"

The voice that answered managed to inject a scolding tone into its honeyed drawl. "Joanna, how many times have I told you not to holler in the house?"

"Sorry." Joanna did not sound particularly contrite, and added, "Daddy's here."

Silence; then there was a rapid click of heels over polished wood and Jocelyn came into the entry where McCoy and Kirk stood. Her eyebrows went up. "Leonard? And...?"

"Hello, Jocelyn. I'd like you to meet James Kirk, a friend of mine from Starfleet Academy. Jim, this is Jocelyn."

Kirk brought his heels together and bowed slightly, then held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am." He watched as her eyes flickered over him, judging.

"Do call me Jocelyn." Her laugh tinkled. "'Ma'am' sounds so old, you know." She turned her gaze toward McCoy, her voice sharpening. "What is it you want, Leonard?"

McCoy answered, "A few words with you about Joanna, that's all. If you don't mind? She's interested in the after-school pre-pilot training program, she tells me."

He sounded tentative, and Kirk winced internally. This was partly why he'd insisted that he wanted to meet Jocelyn, to see how McCoy interacted with her, but it was hard to watch the usually-gruff McCoy turn almost timid.

Kirk broke in, "It was my idea, Jocelyn." He gave her one of his most dazzling smiles. "Joanna was talking to us last night about her school and the kind of enrichment activities it offers, and I suggested to Leonard," he almost stumbled over the name, being so used to call the other man "McCoy" or "Bones," but caught himself and went on, "that it would be easier to come talk to you in person tonight than to try to catch you by phone later."

His smile had the effect he was accustomed to seeing. Her expression softened, and she gave him an almost kittenish smile in return before she nodded. "Come into the living room, then."

They followed her. The room was lavishly and expensively furnished, Kirk could tell that much, although it wasn't to his taste, all bleached silvery woods and pale greens and blues. He guessed that Jocelyn had chosen the decor to set off her own blonde good looks, though, and in that she had certainly succeeded.

"Have a seat." Jocelyn rang a small bell, and a maid appeared within seconds.

Kirk kept his jaw from dropping with difficulty. He'd never seen a human servant in person before, only in films.

"Tammy, a sherry for me. Gentlemen, what would you like?"

McCoy had chosen a seat on one of the sofas. Kirk sank down beside him.

"Bourbon and branch," said McCoy.

"The same here." Kirk didn't really care, and didn't want to ask for something that might not be available.

Jocelyn's laugh tinkled out again. "I should have known you wouldn't have changed. And now you have a companion in your particular vice?" Her smile widened a notch, making her look less like a kitten and more like a hunting cat.

There was room on the sofa between himself and McCoy for Joanna. Her father held out his hand to her. She came, relief in her eyes, and sat. Prudently, Kirk thought, she positioned herself exactly in the middle; not overtly a rival with her mother for Kirk's attention, nor seeming to favor her father, which would doubtless irritate her mother.

Kirk decided to lead the conversation. Thanking the maid for his drink with a smile, he took a sip and said, "I don't know if Joanna mentioned to you that she was playing a video game with me last night and beat the pants off me." He paused just long enough for that mental image to insinuate itself into Jocelyn's mind, and continued, "Her reflexes are really excellent, and I say that as someone who scored very high in Starfleet's pilot aptitude tests myself."

"How very nice." Jocelyn lifted her sherry glass, not quite in salute to his compliment, and sipped. "I can't imagine what use that will be to her, but I suppose any talent should be acknowledged."

Kirk looked Jocelyn over as he lifted his glass to his lips. She was an attractive woman, no question: ash-blonde hair, slim but not boyishly so, overall a real looker. She couldn't be more than thirty; must've still been an undergraduate when she and McCoy married and had Joanna, Kirk thought. A woman who clearly knew what she wanted from life and how she planned to get it, and if she had erred with McCoy, misjudged his ambitions, she had more than rectified that mistake.

"Jocelyn..." McCoy began, but Kirk cut in again.

"What Joanna has is no ordinary talent, Jocelyn. I've known pilots who'd give their left arm, literally, to have her reflexes – with such ability, even one arm would suffice. With two..." He shrugged, spreading his hands, and gave a rueful chuckle that he took care to make sensual as well. "It would be a crime not to give her a chance to develop her potential. She could be one of the best starship pilots in the galaxy."

He turned to Joanna herself. "Unless you're afraid?"

Joanna shook her head, mute but firm. Her glance flicked to her mother.

"Joanna has no need to become a pilot," Jocelyn pointed out. "She has a good deal of intellectual promise too."

Kirk shrugged again. "Life has a way of turning out in ways we don't expect. Isn't it wise to be prepared, to learn to use every ability to best advantage, as I'd guess you have?"

"Hm. You put your case persuasively, James Kirk." Jocelyn's gaze was appraising. "Are you always this honey-tongued?"

With a little smirk, Kirk leaned back slightly, stretching out his legs. "Usually," he admitted. "Another useful talent, but again, one which needs exercise to reach its fullest development."

He didn't think that Jocelyn was aware she had licked her lips, looking at him. Someone who was used to making careful plans, oh yes, but she had her weak points. Joanna was very sharp to have recognized one of them, at her age.

"All right," Jocelyn said abruptly. "If you're going to make such an issue of it, Leonard, I suppose Joanna can take the pre-pilot training after school, but I expect her to continue with her music lessons as well. Joanna?"

"Yes, Mama, I will." Joanna's smile was dazzling.

Interesting that Jocelyn had addressed McCoy just then, when it was Kirk who'd done all the talking. Maybe he hadn't been as persuasive as he'd thought after all; maybe Jocelyn was aware of her own weakness, but had played along for her own reasons. Oh, well, it didn't really matter, so long as the goal was accomplished. Kirk let himself relax and took another swig of the excellent bourbon as the conversation shifted into small talk.

"So, you finish at the Academy," Jocelyn flicked her fingers in a dismissive gesture, "this spring, if I remember?"

"That's right. June."

"And then what?" She seemed to be genuinely curious.

"I don't know yet. We don't find out where we're being assigned until just before graduation. It's possible I'll stay on Earth, but not very likely." McCoy put an arm around his daughter. "I've already explained this to Joanna, and promised to write often if I go into space."

"So you don't know where or with whom you'll serve? The uncertainty must be frustrating." Jocelyn's eyes shifted to Kirk again.

"A doctor's work is always uncertain," said McCoy. "You know that."

There was enough meaning in his voice that he must be referring to some long-standing argument that they'd had when they were married.

Kirk interjected, "Leonard's one of the best in the medical program, though. If he's assigned to a ship, it'll be a good one. None of these thirty-man tugs for him."

"Jim, as you can tell, is the optimistic sort," said McCoy dryly.

"But I'm usually right." Kirk grinned and patted Joanna's knee. "So you don't need to worry too much about your dad, up there in space. He'll be fine."

She nodded, snuggling closer to McCoy.

Another few minutes of desultory conversation, and McCoy indicated it was time for them to go. He stooped to Joanna and hugged her tight for a long minute. Kirk looked away. He'd stood where Joanna was standing now, too many times. At least Joanna would be staying with a parent who loved her. He watched Jocelyn instead, her face almost expressionless, turned toward her daughter and ex-husband. Kirk wondered if she ever regretted the divorce, even though it had been her idea. He himself was glad of it, despite the pain it caused McCoy, for otherwise they would never have met.

"Bye, Joanna. I'll call you soon, sweetheart." McCoy's voice was rough. He straightened and turned and hurried out of the house without looking back. Kirk followed him.

"We forgot to call for a cab," he said as they reached the end of the driveway.

"I saw a bus stop that way, on the main road that passes this neighborhood. We can wait and catch a bus instead."

The posted schedule showed that they had more than twenty minutes to wait. Luckily there was a sheltered bench at the bus stop where they could sit. McCoy was quiet, his attention clearly inward, and Kirk respected his clear wish to be left to his own thoughts. Had Kirk's own mother been so distressed at having to leave him behind, every time she went out on a new assignment? She hadn't shown it, not to his child's eyes, but then McCoy had been restrained in front of Joanna, too. Yet the circumstances were different. Joanna might remind McCoy at times of Jocelyn, and the collapse of their marriage, but Kirk suspected that he reminded Winona of his father's death every time she looked at him. He had never understood her remarriage to Frank, when in many ways she had never gotten over George's loss. If it was to give her sons a father, she'd chosen remarkably poorly the second time around.

He half-watched the traffic going past, the lights almost hypnotic. Finally one set pulled to a stop and Kirk nudged McCoy to board the bus.

The bus driver was friendly, telling Kirk which route they'd need to change to for their hotel and handing him a schedule along with their transfers. Kirk steered McCoy to a seat near the rear doors. There he looked at the little map on the schedule to make sure he'd know where to signal to be let off. It looked as though there were a couple of options, so if they missed the first transfer point they could continue to the transportation center where most of the routes terminated, and change there instead.

His careful attention meant that there were no such glitches. After they'd gotten off the second bus and were walking the remaining block and a half to the hotel, McCoy spoke.

"Sorry to have been such rotten company this evening, Jim."

"That's okay. It must be hard to leave when you don't know when you'll see Joanna again."

"Yeah." Something in his voice made Kirk look at him more carefully. The cheek muscle was twitching again. "That wasn't all that was bothering me, though."

"What else?" Kirk wondered if it might have been Jocelyn.

They were almost to the hotel door. "When we get to the room," said McCoy quietly.

"Fine." Kirk waited through the elevator ride – although there was no one else on it – and while they walked along the hallway, but as soon as the door to their room closed behind them he felt compelled to ask, "What was bothering you, then? The ex?"

"No. Yes." McCoy winced and shook his head, going to pull out the bottle of whiskey he'd brought along. There wasn't much left. He disappeared into the bathroom to bring back two glasses, but when he lifted one inquiringly, Kirk shook his head. McCoy poured for himself and drank off half of it in one swallow.

"Not so much Jocelyn herself," he said with a frown, "as the way you and she interacted. You were able to smooth down her feathers over Joanna, convince her to change her mind. It was just..." He drank down the rest of the whiskey in his glass. "I was never able to persuade her like that, so easily, about anything. I would have sworn it couldn't be done. But you did it. It made me feel almost worthless, do you see? Like I couldn't help my own daughter, there in front of her."

Kirk took the glass out of McCoy's hand, and walked him backward to sit on the edge of their bed. Then he knelt down and put his arms on McCoy's knees, looking earnestly up at him.

"Bones, I'm sorry you felt that way. I certainly didn't mean to imply that you couldn't have persuaded Jocelyn to let Joanna take those lessons; it just seemed to me that there's so much history, bad history, between you that she'd be more likely to listen to me as someone relatively unbiased, at least when it comes to Joanna. So I went with that. I figured it was the results that mattered most, not who did the talking. But I'm very sorry if I hurt you."

McCoy sighed. "I know you didn't mean to make me feel incompetent. And I'm sorry, too. It's kind of put me out of the mood, and I'd been thinking that I wanted to do something special for you tonight, the way you did for me last night."

"You don't have to do anything." Kirk squeezed McCoy's hands. "We've had a good time here. It won't bother me if we don't have sex tonight. I like just being with you, you know."

McCoy's smile was a little forced, but it _was_ a smile. "I like being with you, too."

Kirk stood, wincing as one of his knees popped. He was in pretty good shape on the whole, but kneeling as he had been was not exactly the most comfortable position.

"I know it's not that late, but shall we go to bed? We could watch something on television for a little while, I suppose."

"Sure." McCoy sighed, then held out his hand for Kirk to haul him to his feet. Kirk had a sudden mental flash of himself holding out his hands to McCoy just like that, only McCoy's hair was gray, his face lined. He chewed on the corner of his lip absently. Grow old with McCoy? He supposed he could think of a lot worse things to do with his life.

"What is it?" McCoy had noticed his expression. "You look concerned about something."

"Just thinking about when we'll need to get out of here to catch our shuttle, that's all," Kirk lied. "Should we pack tonight?"

"The shuttle's not until almost noon. We'll have plenty of time in the morning."

In the bathroom, they brushed their teeth side by side. Kirk as usual finished first and bent to spit into the sink. He had already undressed down to his underwear, ready to slide into bed, and felt McCoy's hand rest warmly on his right ass cheek.

"You might just tempt me enough like that to overcome my earlier lack of interest."

"Oh yeah?" Kirk rinsed out his mouth, waited until McCoy had done the same, then wrapped his arms around the other man's pajama-clad torso. "You know I won't say no, but only if you really want to."

"Let's get into bed and we'll see."

Kirk grabbed the lubricant to put on the bedside table, just in case; he didn't want to have to interrupt anything to go looking for it.

McCoy picked up the television control and found the channel that showed all the programs available at that hour. Scrolling through them was too slow for Kirk's taste, however.

"Just surf through," he said impatiently.

"You have to pause for a few seconds see what's playing," McCoy pointed out. "It's actually faster this way."

"Humph." Kirk rolled his eyes, propping himself up on his elbow so that he could watch McCoy. "As if it really mattered."

McCoy frowned at the screen. Facing him, Kirk couldn't see what he was looking at.

"What?"

"I've reached the, um," McCoy cleared his throat, "the porno channels."

"Anything that looks good?"

"The titles manage to be suggestive without really communicating much about the content."

Kirk twisted his head to see the screen. "Well, pick one and we can see what it's like. Just remember the numbers of a few of the channels and if we don't like the first one you can try a couple of others without having to come back here and re-check."

"Okay." McCoy punched in the channel number. The screen flickered and they were treated to a view of a busty blonde riding a red-haired man, who clearly spent a lot of time out in the sun or under a tanning lamp, since he was heavily freckled all over. The camera kept cutting between a full-body shot of the two of them, and a close up of the woman's pussy sliding up and down the man's dick.

"You like this?" McCoy's face was slightly flushed as he asked Kirk the question.

"It's all right." Kirk shrugged. "Pretty standard stuff. You?"

McCoy brushed a finger over Kirk's cheek. "I was hoping to find one with two men, if that's okay with you."

"So switch the channel." Kirk was trying to remember if he'd ever watched any guy-on-guy porn before. He couldn't remember for sure, except maybe as part of a threesome or orgy scene in a film that was basically het. Girl-on-girl, yeah, his high school buddy Charlie had had a thing for it and owned a whole stack, so Kirk had seen plenty of that.

McCoy had flipped the channel, paused, and flipped again. "This looks more promising," he murmured.

On the screen two young men were sucking each other off in what seemed to be a school locker room. The film had the usual porno lack of realism, for after a moment a third boy walked in wearing only gym shoes and a jockstrap.

"I thought that you had to be at least eighteen to act in one of these," McCoy said. "That kid doesn't look more than fourteen or fifteen."

"I'm sure he's legal, Bones. They pick actors who look young when they use settings like this. Even in regular movies about teenagers, half the time the actors are in their twenties, you know." Kirk watched in fascination as the third boy pulled off his jock and pressed the tip of his cock into the mouth of one of the other boys. How the hell could you suck two dicks at once without biting? Ah, they were thrusting alternately. Maybe that would be possible, but he thought that in reality, it would be nicer to have someone's full attention.

"Jim?" McCoy picked up Kirk's hand and brought it to his mouth, sucking his finger tip.

"What do you want to do, then?" Kirk slid his other hand across McCoy's chest, searching out the tiny knot of one nipple through the fabric of the pajama top and rubbing his thumb over it.

"I'm not sure I can offer to do to you what you did to me last night," said McCoy with a faint grimace. "Some time, it seems only fair you should get to know how it feels to have someone's tongue in your ass, but I'm not up for it tonight. So... I want you to fuck me, but I want to be the one on top, riding you, like the blonde girl we just saw."

"God, Bones, you think I'll say no to that?" Kirk leaned over and kissed McCoy hard. He still tasted of the whiskey he'd drunk earlier, even through the chalky mint of toothpaste.

They kissed for a while as the television played on, the boys in the film now having shifted so that one was fucking another, and that one giving a blow job to the third even while jacking his own dick. It occurred to Kirk suddenly, when they stopped kissing so that McCoy could prep himself with lube, that in porno flicks, while you almost always saw penetration, no one ever seemed to come inside anyone else's body: not mouth, nor pussy, nor ass. Maybe it was because the film makers assumed that viewers wanted to see come shots, or maybe it seemed too intimate for the tone they were trying to create. He pressed the power button on the television remote and wriggled around to pull off his underpants, his dick springing up hard against his stomach.

"No need to hurry," he told McCoy, who gave him a snort in return.

"You think I'm going to skimp on this when we're gonna be sitting down in that shuttle for hours tomorrow?"

"Nah." Kirk watched McCoy's fingers sliding in and out of his flexing asshole. He squeezed the base of his own dick. "You look fucking hot like that, you know, better than the pretty boys in the film."

McCoy snorted again. "Says the prettiest boy at the Academy, and don't you know it."

"Maybe, but I don't want to watch _myself_ , do I? Although I like knowing that you like watching me." Kirk waggled his dick at McCoy and grinned. "Maybe you'd rather watch me get myself off than have this in you?"

For a moment McCoy's fingers slowed as he made a pretense of thinking it over. "Be a waste of lube, though. And I'm pretty much ready." He pulled his hand away and swung one leg over so that he was straddling Kirk. "Now." His hand closed over Kirk's, and together they guided the head of Kirk's dick to rest against the pucker of McCoy's asshole. Then McCoy braced his hands on his legs and slowly, slowly sank down until Kirk's dick was fully inside him. He was semi-hard, and Kirk reached to stroke him.

"Not too rough," McCoy said, and Kirk nodded. He watched the tiny shifts in McCoy's face as he moved, altering the angle bit by bit until he had Kirk's dick where he wanted it, his mouth rounding in an O of pleasure.

"Jim..." Kirk's name tore from McCoy's throat in a tone somewhere between a whisper and a groan, and Kirk muttered, "Bones," with just as much urgency in return.

McCoy's ass clung to him despite the lube, delicious friction and heat sending shocks through him at every motion. He rather enjoyed giving up control like this, although it was a little frustrating that McCoy kept his movements so deliberate. He stroked McCoy's shaft a little faster, brushing the pad of his thumb over the dampness that leaked from the tip, and McCoy's eyes fluttered shut for an instant. Opening them, he warned again, "Gentle." Kirk nodded, keeping his touch light though quick. McCoy was still not completely hard, but obviously enjoyed the caresses anyhow.

It was slow, this rising heat, and Kirk savored it. Tomorrow they'd be back in their dorm rooms, trying to find moments when they could be alone. Maybe soon McCoy would be willing to end all the secrecy? Kirk hoped so, although he'd rather have McCoy that way than not at all. He heard his own breathing grow ragged, felt sweat prickling his skin as his climax approached, and gripped McCoy's hand hard when he finally came, four convulsive pulses deep within McCoy's body.

"Enough," he gasped when McCoy kept moving. The length of time McCoy had been able to keep him hard but unsatisfied had left his dick more sensitive than usual.

McCoy stilled his hips, bending forward to kiss Kirk's mouth, his tongue flicking over Kirk's lips.

Kirk gave a contented sigh and put his arm around McCoy. "Want me to suck you off?"

"In a minute." McCoy nuzzled Kirk's neck. "I loved being able to watch your face when you came."

"I'm sure it was all scrunched up and funny-looking," Kirk said.

"Yeah, I suppose, but so what? I don't know how to describe how you looked; sort of blissful and intense, all at once. Sorry, that sounds ridiculous."

It did, but Kirk wasn't going to say so. He just held McCoy while longer. When the pounding of his heart had slowed to normal, though, he said, "You'd better let me get to work on you now, or I'm gonna fall asleep just like this, and that would be totally unfair."

"It sure would."

Kirk's dick had slipped free some little while back and now rested spent and sticky on his stomach, but he ignored it, rolling over while McCoy scooted up to give him a better angle. He stroked the quivering flesh with his fingertips before pressing his lips to the head, tasting bitterness as he opened his mouth to take in as much of McCoy as he could handle without gagging. He wished he could see McCoy's face better, but the angle made it hard to do more than sneak a few glances. He stroked behind McCoy's balls, and that did it. Clutching at Kirk's hair, McCoy came, filling Kirk's throat so that he coughed and spluttered and had to come up for air, swallowing. "Now I can go to sleep with a clear conscience," he said when he could speak again.

McCoy chuckled. "You, Jim Kirk? A clear conscience? Don't make me laugh."

"Hey." Kirk shoved him gently. "Clear enough. Just for that, I'm going to make you sleep in the wet spot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter was inspired by the song from _Grease_ , "There Are Worse Things I Could Do."


	19. Flirting and the Consequences Thereof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy isn't happy with how things are going.

They had been back at the Academy for more than two weeks now, but had only managed to find one opportunity to have sex. Both of their schedules, and both of their roommates', had changed with the new term, and not for the better, not if having private time together was the goal. Which was not to say that they didn't get to see each other, because they did, in passing during the day and at some meals and on some evenings, but always there were various friends about.

McCoy knew that if he were willing to stop keeping their relationship a secret, it would be much easier. At the very least their roommates would probably be willing to give them a little scheduled private time. He knew that Kirk wanted him to agree to be more open about things; he could almost feel Kirk's impatience like a tangible thing, a wave rolling off him whenever McCoy was around. Part of him wanted to do it. Hell, if his _daughter_ knew, and his ex-wife probably guessed, why should it matter if their friends and colleagues at the Academy were also aware? It had been three months or so now, so it wasn't as if Kirk were making a fool of him. Nor was it as if this were the bad old days of Earth's twentieth century, when being in a relationship with someone of the same sex was socially beyond the pale when not actually illegal.

Yet something held McCoy back. If he had to put it into words, he might have acknowledged that he was testing Kirk, trying to find out if he would cheat on McCoy when no one else knew of any reason why he shouldn't be having the kind of casual fling he'd always had before.

Tonight, in fact, Kirk was flirting shamelessly with a first-year female cadet, Dora Sanchez, one of a large mixed group of cadets at this bar. McCoy had had an exhausting day, with two lectures plus a lab that morning, and a stint at the clinic all afternoon and into the evening. He had let Kirk persuade him to come out, but now he rather regretted it. He took a large gulp of his bourbon and swallowed, watching morosely as Kirk grinned at Sanchez and drew a finger along her jaw.

"He's such a tease," said Sidhu, sitting down on the empty stool next to McCoy and shaking his head. "I don't know how he manages to _pass_ his classes, much less do well at them, when he acts like that all the time."

"He's a genius," mumbled McCoy. "A fucking genius."

"Yes, obviously, but still." The ice in Sidhu's glass rattled as he put it down, empty. "Some people have all the luck."

 _Maybe not_ all _the luck_ , thought McCoy, watching Kirk. He knew just enough about Kirk's childhood to be aware of the fact that Kirk had been distinctly _un_ -lucky in that. Having both good looks and brains didn't necessarily compensate for having been in effect abandoned by his mother to an abusive stepfather. Not that that was all spelled out in Kirk's medical records, but McCoy could read between the lines, and he finally, not without some qualms, had gotten around to looking at them. He _was_ Kirk's official physician now. Goodness knows Kirk needed one, what with the occasional bar fight and the hand-to-hand combat practice and his amazing array of strange allergies, not to mention the need for STD boosters.

Kirk had gotten up and was dancing with Sanchez in the tiny space provided, pressed close together between several other couples doing likewise. McCoy tore his gaze away from the curve of Kirk's ass. Instead he talked with the cadet on his other side, whose name he didn't know but who was in the pilot and navigation track, an enthusiastic young Asian man who'd joined Starfleet in part to get away from the family fishing business, spaceships being preferable to the ocean-going sort.

When next McCoy looked up, Kirk had disappeared from the dance floor and was nowhere to be seen, though McCoy craned his neck, looking around. He cursed under his breath. There were three possibilities: one, that Kirk was in the men's room; two, that he had gone back to the dorms; or three, that he was somewhere making out with Sanchez. It was still well before midnight, so the second possibility seemed unlikely for Kirk. The first was certainly feasible, but McCoy didn't see Sanchez anywhere either, so he strongly suspected that his third guess was the true one.

He couldn't even blame Kirk, not really, not when it had been McCoy's own idea that Kirk ought to continue flirting and carrying on with women as he'd always done. Of course, half the reason for that had been that he expected Kirk would do so regardless. It had been a kind of preemptive measure. Now that they been together for a while, though, it hurt more than McCoy had expected to see Kirk carrying on like that. The situation wasn't protecting his emotions, even if it might be saving his face.

Maybe – McCoy took a gulp of bourbon – maybe he should talk with Kirk, renegotiate? Kirk had been wonderful in Atlanta, and having Joanna figure things out hadn't been a problem. He might get some teasing from other cadets if they went public, but maybe he was ready to handle that? On the other hand, it _was_ only a few more months until they would both graduate and get their first assignments, and the chances were only slight that they would end up serving together. McCoy cringed mentally at the thought of hearing a lot of sympathetic remarks if and when they broke up, or conversely platitudes to say that of _course_ they could maintain a relationship for five years over light years of space.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ He drained his glass, looking around the bar once more to see if he could spot Kirk now. No luck. He glanced at the time and decided that with or without seeing him again, he had better head back to his room soon, or he'd be good for nothing in the morning. He'd just go take a leak first.

He was leaving the men's room when Kirk and Sanchez came around the corner of the hallway where the women's restroom was. Sanchez's clothes were distinctly rumpled, and Kirk had a smear of lipstick by his mouth. He'd clearly tried to wipe it away and not succeeded.

"Pardon me," McCoy said in his stiffest tones, pushing past them to make good his exit and ignoring Kirk's call from behind him, "Bones!"

McCoy threaded his way through the crowded bar to the door. He'd settled up with every drink rather than running a tab, so there was no concern there. The chilly fog outside did little to cool his hot unhappiness as he walked briskly back to the Academy grounds.

Matthews was in their room when he arrived, sprawled across his bed studying an astrophysics text. He glanced up as McCoy entered.

"Message for you; just a few minutes ago. I wrote it out and put it on your desk."

McCoy picked up the paper, expecting it to be from the clinic, summoning him for an emergency, but it was from Kirk. He must have called almost as soon as McCoy had left the bar.

_Meet Jim for lunch tomorrow at noon in the cafeteria._

McCoy scowled. If the bastard wanted to talk, why hadn't he just waited a few minutes longer tonight to call, until McCoy would be back? Kirk knew how long that walk took. What if McCoy had had a clinic shift scheduled tomorrow? He _didn't_ , as it happened, but he _might_ have.

Sighing, he tossed the slip of paper back onto his desk and got ready for bed. He knew that, annoyed or not, he'd go meet Kirk the next day.

When McCoy arrived at the cafeteria a couple of minutes after noon, Kirk had snagged a table for two, preventing any of their other friends from intruding. McCoy nodded to himself. Still maybe a bit public for his taste, but the ambient noise would afford them some measure of privacy. He went through the food line, choosing a bowl of chili, with salad and corn bread and canned peaches for dessert, then slid his tray onto the table opposite Kirk and sat down.

"I'm not going to say I'm sorry."

McCoy jerked his head up from his bowl as he lifted the first bite of chili to his lips. "What?"

"I'm not going to apologize for last night, Bones, not when I was only doing what you've said you wanted me to do. I could tell you were upset, and I'm sorry about _that_ , but that's all." Kirk bit into the already half-eaten cheeseburger on his plate.

"Okay." McCoy exhaled. "Yeah, I _was_ pretty upset. I think maybe we'd better talk about this."

"That's what I think." Kirk drank some milk. When he set the glass down, there was a milk moustache on his lip, and McCoy had a strong urge to lean over and wipe it away with his own napkin just as he had done many times for Joanna in the past. " _You_ set the rules, Bones; I've been going along with what you wanted. So maybe _you're_ the one who should say what he thinks needs to change."

Now that it came to it, McCoy hesitated. He broke off a corner of his cornbread and chewed it slowly to give himself some time.

"I don't know," he finally said. "I'm not sure I'm quite ready for people to know about us, but on the other hand, I'm not altogether happy with things as they are, either."

"Yeah, I could kind of tell that." Kirk poked at his salad, then forked up a bite.

McCoy floundered on. "Do you like being able to flirt with women still? I don't want to tie you down, you know." Mentally he added, _Especially since I'm pretty sure if I tried to, that would be the end of things between us._

"Of course I like it." Kirk shrugged. "The thing is, Bones, it's a game. I know that and the women do too... usually." His frown was so slight, so fleeting, that McCoy almost missed it. "I'm pretty good at picking out women who aren't going to think that a night of flirting and fooling around or even sex means some kind of relationship."

McCoy's lips were stiff as he asked, "Sex?"

"You know perfectly well that I've slept with a lot of women." Kirk sounded surprised. Then he cocked his head and squinted at McCoy. "Oh, you mean _recently_. Yes, I've fooled around, but I haven't actually had sex with anyone else since we got together, I swear."

Swallowing, McCoy nodded. He wasn't sure quite how Kirk defined sex. Would oral sex count? Or mutual masturbation? Personally McCoy was inclined to feel that if you had an orgasm with a partner present, it was sex, no matter how you got there. Maybe it didn't really matter anyway, since Kirk was being monogamous by his own standards. McCoy cleared his throat. "That's good to know."

"But it still bothers you, what I've been doing, like with Sanchez last night." Kirk's expression was candid.

"Yeah." McCoy chewed at his lip. "Maybe... no, it's a stupid idea."

"What is it? Come on, spit it out," said Kirk.

"I was thinking, maybe you could slowly start flirting with me, when other people are around, the way you do with women. Make it look like we're just starting things, instead of having been together for months already."

Kirk cocked his head. "Should I flirt with other men, too?"

"No!" That came out louder than he'd intended, and McCoy glanced around to make sure no one had noticed, trying to get a grip on his emotions at the same time. "No," he repeated. "I'd rather you didn't do that."

"I didn't think so." Kirk grinned. "I was just joking."

"Some joke," McCoy grumbled.

"Okay, yeah, I can start to flirt with you like you said, but why?"

McCoy had a hard time articulating his reasons. "I guess I want people to know, but on the other hand, I don't want them to know _too_ much. When we graduate and get our first assignment, you know it's not that likely that we'll end up on the same ship. And I don't want anyone pitying me because we're not together. It'll be hard enough to cope with it myself."

"Huh." Kirk propped his chin on his hand. "I think it would be easier to have a few people know why you might be feeling unhappy."

"For some people, that's absolutely true, but not for me. I'd rather wrestle with that sort of problem on my own." McCoy looked levelly at Kirk. "You may not ever have been in a serious relationship before – I don't count high school girlfriends as serious – but don't try to tell _me_ you've preferred to talk about your emotional reactions to other people rather than keeping them to yourself, because that would be the biggest line of bullshit you've ever tried to feed me."

Kirk looked away. "Point," he admitted. "Okay, then. Does this mean that after I've flirted with you for, oh, a couple of weeks maybe, we can make out in front of our roommates?"

"I think they'd be embarrassed," said McCoy. "Matthews has never brought anyone back to our room, not while I was there anyhow, so I figure I should show the same respect... at least not do anything without asking beforehand. If you don't mess around with women in your room when Sidhu is there, then you shouldn't with me either."

Kirk pretended to pout. "You mean I can't even pat your ass if you walk by?"

"Would you pat _Sanchez's_ ass in the same circumstances?" McCoy countered.

"As a matter of fact, I probably would," Kirk said.

"If you really _would_ do something with a woman, in front of Sidhu I mean, then you can do the same with me, I guess," McCoy decided. That seemed like a reasonable rule of thumb. Presumably if Sidhu had been embarrassed by anything Kirk did with women, he would have mentioned it long since.

They finished their lunch chatting about inconsequentialities. McCoy felt relieved that Kirk was willing to go along with the revised plan; he hoped it would work as intended.

The first test came the following Sunday night. Kirk had had his usual hand-to-hand combat session that afternoon, and at dinner he seemed uncomfortable, his hand going repeatedly up to his ribs as if they ached.

"Did the instructor leave you with bruises again?" McCoy asked during a lull in the conversation.

"At least," Kirk admitted with a wince.

If Kirk was saying _that_ , he probably had a cracked rib. McCoy stifled a sigh. "I suppose you didn't have it looked at?"

"Nah. I've had worse." Kirk caught McCoy's eye and glanced away. McCoy remembered what he'd seen in Kirk's medical records. Yes, he had, but that didn't mean he should ignore _this_ injury.

"If you won't go to the clinic, you should at least come back with me after dinner and let me check you out," he said gruffly.

Kirk gave a broad smirk. "You can check me out any time, Bones."

At the other end of the table, Bob Adamson gave a wolf whistle, and Sanchez called, "Didn't know you went for men, too, Jim!"

McCoy's face grew hot as Kirk answered, "It's not my usual, but I might consider swinging that way for Bones here."

"Ah, you're making him blush. Give the doctor a break," Adamson said.

Kirk quieted down for the time being, but he did go back to McCoy's room, where McCoy found that he was badly bruised, but no worse.

"You really should be more careful," he admonished, using a hypospray to give Kirk a good dose of analgesic. "Those aren't exactly love pats he's giving you, and if you get yourself seriously injured in practice, how are you going to manage if you get into another of those bar brawls you're so fond of?"

"Ouch." Kirk rubbed his neck and glared. "There's no point in combat practice that's risk-free; the whole purpose is to learn how to cope with the unexpected, and keep fighting even if things aren't going so well. Although I admit I'd rather have your love pats than Jiang's." He leered suggestively.

From his desk, Matthews snorted. "Get a room, you guys. And not _this_ room, either."

"If I can persuade him, maybe." Kirk laughed. "Don't worry, Bones, your virtue is safe with me... until you decide otherwise. Thanks. I'd better go get some studying done – see you two later."

McCoy exhaled a breath he hadn't known was holding as Kirk left, and packed up his medical kit again. Matthews was watching him curiously.

"Jim was acting funny tonight. I've never seen him flirt with another guy before."

McCoy grunted. He put the bag aside and pulled out the PADD with his lecture notes from the last week's classes, intending to review them. "I don't mind. Kind of flattering, even if he's not serious."

"And here I thought you had no interest in humanoid bodies except from a medical standpoint, although I suppose Jim manages to get himself injured often enough to be of interest from _that_ perspective. He probably doesn't mean much by it anyway; I think flirting is practically automatic for him by now."

"Probably," McCoy murmured, and bent over his notes.

Kirk was waiting when McCoy got off his clinic shift the next day.

"Well?" he demanded. "Pretty good, huh, with the flirting last night?"

"Yes, Jim." McCoy pulled on his jacket. "I think Matthews might be a little disturbed by the notion that you've started coming on to men as well as women, but no big deal, I'm sure, as long as you leave _him_ alone."

"Hah. You've been putting on that whole not-interested-in-sex act for the past several years, but maybe Matthews really genuinely _is_ uninterested." Kirk shrugged. "Don't worry, I won't mess up the harmony between you two roomies."

"Thanks. If you behave yourself, I think this just might work."

"That's the idea." Kirk gave him a sunny smile. "In a couple of weeks I'll be groping you under the table when we go out for a drink, and no one will think anything of it."

"We'll see about that," said McCoy.


	20. What Changed in His Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk acknowledges that his feelings have changed.

Valentine's Day was coming up, less than a week away now, and Kirk had no idea what if anything he ought to do about it. He had established a pattern of flirting with McCoy in front of their friends, but without intimating anything exclusive since he was still paying attention to women as well. McCoy seemed happy to let everyone think that it was just a flirtation for fun on top of their existing friendship, nothing yet more serious, so if Kirk did anything for him for Valentine's Day it had better be pretty low-key.

He couldn't tell if McCoy was planning anything. He rather suspected not. He had the definite impression that Jocelyn had expected all the traditional trappings like roses and candy and a night out, and McCoy wasn't likely to want to evoke his memory of his ex-wife by doing the same things he'd done with her.

Kirk thought about it. If only mid-February weren't still winter... and then he saw a flyer tacked up for a store that not only sold camping gear, but also rented it, and he hatched a plan.

"Do you have a clinic shift tonight?" he asked McCoy casually as they were hurrying across campus together on the morning of the fourteenth.

"No. Why?" McCoy's eyebrows went up. "Never mind, tell me later. I'm going to be late for my lab. See you." He ducked into the science building.

In his own classroom, Kirk quickly composed a message and sent it to McCoy before turning his attention to the instructor.

 _Meet me at the Sutro Bath House at 9._

It really should have been 2100 hours, but Kirk knew that McCoy was more comfortable with civilian clocks, and this was hardly Starfleet business.

Well before he had told McCoy to be there, Kirk had spent an hour getting ready. He had rented a tiny pup tent, barely big enough to hold two, plus an inflatable mattress and a sleeping bag. He had also picked up a bottle of McCoy's favorite bourbon, although he now realized he'd forgotten anything to pour it into. He shrugged. They could just drink from the bottle; it wasn't as if they didn't share germs anyway. The tent was set up, after quite a bit of wrestling and swearing at it, the mattress inflated with much more ease using the small electric pump that came with it, the sleeping bag spread out. He'd forgotten cups, but he _had_ remembered both lube and a towel for cleaning up if they needed it. He had nothing left to do but pace, waiting for McCoy to show up.

He checked the time; still ten minutes to wait, assuming McCoy wasn't late, that is. At least he hadn't said he wouldn't come. He sat down on a large rock, considered and discarded the idea of breaking into the bourbon before McCoy arrived, and instead simply jiggled his leg impatiently as he waited.

"Jim?"

He'd missed seeing McCoy arrive. "Hey there, Bones."

Kirk had considered making a fire but decided against it, not wanting to risk having a park cop stop by at an unfortunate moment. Fires were not permitted in the park except in designated locations, of which this was not one. Camping wasn't either, for that matter, but the little tent was not likely to catch the eye as a fire would, and anyway Kirk expected they would be gone by midnight. The only lights came from the reflection of the city off the clouds; enough to see McCoy standing there, but not quite enough to discern his expression.

"I brought something to drink, if you'd like," Kirk offered, holding up the bottle. "Although I forgot to bring cups or anything."

McCoy walked over. Kirk was relieved to see that he was smiling. "I won't complain... this time. Give me that." He opened the bottle and took a long swig. "I presume all _that_ ," he nodded toward the tent, "is your doing, too?"

"Yeah. We hadn't managed to get together for almost two weeks, and this seemed a lot nicer than one of those rooms by the hour even if it doesn't have amenities like running water."

"True," agreed McCoy. His voice sounded rough, but before Kirk could figure out why that might be, McCoy had put the bottle down and was kissing him.

Kirk overbalanced and slid off his rock, landing rather heavily on the damp ground with McCoy on top of him, but he ignored the twinge of his hip and put his arms around McCoy to kiss him back.

"Jim, Jim," McCoy muttered between kisses. His stubbled cheek scraped against Kirk's neck as he dipped his head to suck at the hollow of Kirk's throat.

"Maybe we should move inside the tent?" Kirk suggested after a while. Both of their shirts were pretty well rucked up by then, and anyone passing by would have known immediately what they'd been doing. "I think today even the cops might look the other way, but easier for them to do it if we're not actually naked in public."

"Yeah," McCoy said hoarsely. He grabbed the bottle and crawled into the tent after Kirk.

A claustrophobe would have been bothered, but Kirk had done his share of hiding in various tight places. In fact in junior high school he'd had a kind of specialty of locking himself into the double locker he shared with Nate Singleton, working the catch from the inside when he was ready to get out. Small spaces in themselves didn't bother him. He wiggled around to make sure that the lube he'd brought was within reach.

"Jim." McCoy was sucking at his neck again.

"Yeah, Bones, what is it?"

"Probably we should stay mostly dressed, don't you think, just in case?"

"I suppose so," Kirk said, swallowing his disappointment. He liked the feel of McCoy's body naked against his own, bu there would be other times. "Just hands then?"

"I have something better in mind." McCoy tugged at Kirk's trousers until his cock was exposed, thrusting up hard from the opened fabric.

"Gonna suck me then?"

"Nah." Kirk felt rather than saw McCoy's shake of his head. "You have lube, don't you?"

Wordlessly Kirk passed him the bottle and a moment later felt McCoy's hand on him, slicking him.

"Damn," McCoy swore softly.

"What?"

"I was gonna sit on top of you, facing you like we did our last night in Atlanta, but I'd have to take my pants off for that. Guess I'll kneel instead, and you can be behind me." He reached for Kirk's wrist and tugged at him. "Here."

It took a little bit of fumbling to get everything lined up, but then he found the angle he needed and slid inside, the tight heat of McCoy's ass welcoming him.

"That good?"

McCoy's answering groan was very distinctly one of pleasure, so Kirk grabbed onto his hips and started to move. He could have wept at the feel of it, the way McCoy murmured to urge him on, _harder-faster-deeper_ , but he didn't want to come right away. Deliberately he slowed, sliding his hands over McCoy's skin to caress his thighs, his back, his chest, anywhere he could reach while maintaining his steady pace.

In the small space of the tent, there wasn't room to move very much, but between the lack of air and having most of his clothes still on, within moments Kirk felt the trickle of sweat breaking out all over his body. Beneath him McCoy gave soft grunts at his every thrust. Now Kirk reached around McCoy's hip for his dick, and found McCoy's left hand already there. He stilled his own movements to concentrate on McCoy, coaxing him back to full hardness and then continuing with slow firm strokes.

McCoy gasped and groaned and Kirk felt his ass clench even as McCoy's semen wetted his fingers. He groaned, too, relaxing his control and thrusting again, convulsively, one, two, a dozen times, the heat boiling inside him, and then in a rush he too had come.

They sank forward. McCoy twisted so that he was on his side, nudging Kirk over to lie behind him, his cock softening and slipping out of McCoy's ass. He could feel his heart beating in counterpoint to his slowing breath, felt too the beat of McCoy's heart under the hand he had draped over McCoy's chest. It was like curling up with Sam after Frank had strapped them both for some minor offense, was this closeness and calm. It was like being in the womb, if he could remember that although of course he did not, but this was what it must've _been_ like, only this was better.

The words slipped out of his mouth before he could censor them or think about how trite they might sound, on this day of all days.

"I love you."

McCoy's hand fumbled for his, gripped it, pulled it to his mouth. "I love you, too," McCoy murmured against his fingers, almost inaudibly.

Something in Kirk shuddered and broke at that. He'd had plenty of women say that they loved him, but he'd known that they didn't mean it except in a superficial way, as they might love a new handbag or a sinfully rich dessert. The way McCoy had said it, though, there was no question but that he meant it with every fiber of his being, and Kirk realized that he felt the same. His subconscious mind was obviously way ahead of him.

He moved at last with reluctance, reaching for the hand towel he'd left beside the sleeping bag, mopping up the sticky streaks of drying come from McCoy's ass and thighs and his own cock before passing the towel to McCoy to do likewise.

"Thanks."

"We'll have to pack everything up and get going soon." Kirk fumbled to do up his pants. "No overnight camping in the park."

"I didn't figure so," McCoy agreed, stretching so that Kirk heard his joints pop. "So shall I give you a hand?"

Irrationally Kirk resented the matter-of-fact tone of McCoy's voice. Surely an acknowledgment such as they had made deserved more attention? Then common sense reasserted itself. _He'd_ been the one to change the subject, and anyhow, they could hardly sit there saying "I love you" over and over.

"Sure," he answered aloud. "Let's roll up the sleeping bag first and get that out of here – don't forget to rescue the bourbon either – and deflate the mattress. Then the tent should collapse pretty easily."

"I think it would be easier if we pull the sleeping bag out and roll it up outside," said McCoy, suiting actions to words.

Kirk helped, holding up one end while McCoy rolled from the other. The air mattress was almost as simple as the sleeping bag, once it had been deflated. The tent was easier to take down than it had been to put up, but figuring out how to fold it up so that it fit into its pouch was somewhat more tricky. All three items fit together on a lightweight metal frame. Kirk picked it up and slipped the straps over his shoulders.

"Back to campus, I guess."

McCoy put a hand out to stop him. "Jim."

"Yeah, Bones?"

McCoy's lips brushed his. "Happy Valentine's Day. I... I never thought I would enjoy this day again. Thanks."

"Yeah. Um. You're welcome," said Kirk awkwardly.

Riding the bus back with McCoy, Kirk felt a calm contentment that he'd rarely experienced before.

The strange thing was that, the next day, Kirk found himself looking at other men and speculating idly what they might be like in bed, in the same way he had always looked at women – not _objectifying_ them so much as _appreciating_ them physically. It had never occurred to him before that the cadets' fitness requirement meant that they were all in reasonably good shape and therefore potentially attractive. Faces aside, of course, but Kirk had long since found that pretty faces in girls could be deceptive. Standards for male attractiveness were a lot more flexible anyhow, and based more on body appearance than on the face.

When he realized that he was checking out other men, he made an effort to stop. McCoy had made it very clear that although he accepted Kirk would continue his habit of flirtation with women, he very much did _not_ want him do the same with men, and Kirk had promised he would not. At that time he hadn't expected that he would want to do so; McCoy had been the only man he'd recognized an attraction to. Now that had changed, and Kirk didn't know why. He only knew that he was not entirely comfortable with it, more on McCoy's account than his own.

If this change in attitude had occurred a year earlier, or even six months, it would have been McCoy that Kirk would probably have gone to in order to talk it over. That was one downside of the development of this relationship. He hadn't lost McCoy as a friend, but now there were things he was less comfortable talking about, because he didn't want to hurt him.

Then he reconsidered. McCoy was not exactly slow on the uptake, and giving appreciative glances and flirting was something Kirk did so automatically that sooner or later he was bound to slip up and start flirting with Sharpe or Adamson or Matthews or Sidhu or one of their other male friends without consciously intending to. Better to talk to McCoy before that happened. Maybe he could help Kirk figure out what was going on. In any case Kirk could try to explain and assure him that he didn't have the same emotional reaction to anyone but McCoy.

It wasn't _quite_ as difficult to find a place and time where they could talk privately and undisturbed as it was to find an opportunity for sex, but it still wasn't easy, and several days passed before Kirk managed it by dint of booking one of the small group study rooms at the library. McCoy's eyebrows went up when Kirk asked him to study there with him that evening, but he came along willingly enough after dinner.

The room had windows facing the hallway, presumably so that latecomers could locate the rest of their study group if they'd forgotten the room number, and McCoy gestured at them. "Do you mind if I lower those blinds? I don't like people passing by and watching me."

"Absolutely." Kirk pulled out books and PADDs, arranging them on the table as McCoy adjusted the blinds. He sat down and twiddled with one of the PADDs until McCoy had finished and also taken a chair. "Bones."

"Let me guess, you didn't _just_ want to study. I'll tell you now, though, that I'm not going to risk doing more than a little kissing here." McCoy jerked a thumb at a corner of the ceiling, where a security camera was mounted. "I don't know if that's continuously monitored or not, but I don't want to put on a show for some security guard."

"I hadn't even thought of doing that," said Kirk honestly. "I wanted to talk, that's all."

McCoy frowned. "Talk about what?"

Before that steady gaze, Kirk almost hesitated, but he forced himself to say what he'd planned. ""I meant what I said at Ocean Beach on Valentine's Day. I wanted to be sure that you know that."

"I meant it too." McCoy's face was flushed and his voice rough as he spoke. "More than I've ever meant saying it to anybody before."

Kirk took a deep breath. "But something weird has been happening to me, the last few days. I never looked at other guys before, you know, the way I check out women, but lately I have been. It's not," he stumbled, "not _meaningful_ , not like with you, but..." He shrugged, feeling helpless to explain further or more clearly.

McCoy went white to the lips. He stared at Kirk.

"Look, I'm not going to go out there and start sleeping with every man in sight," said Kirk, a little desperately. "Any more than I'm sleeping with women these days either. I'm just... I don't know, _aware_ of men that way now, where I didn't ever used to be. I don't know what changed in my head. I wasn't gonna tell you, but I figured you would guess anyhow, since you always noticed me flirting with women, so you'd be bound to notice with men." Kirk wound down, watching McCoy, waiting for him to respond somehow.

"I don't know what to say." McCoy was staring at his own hands, clenched on the edge of the table. His voice was soft, defeated. "I guess I should have known better than to think you'd be happy with just me."

" _Bones_." Kirk leaned forward and gripped McCoy's arm. "You weren't listening. I. Don't. Want. To. Have. Sex. With. Any. Other. Man," he enunciated each word. " _That's_ the bottom line. I love you, like I said." The words still weren't entirely easy to say, though he knew them to be true, but the misery on McCoy's face overrode any embarrassment he felt. "If you have any ideas for how I could manage to not look, not pay attention or notice when someone's attractive, believe me, I'd love to hear it, but in any case I'll swear by anything you like that just looking and being appreciative doesn't at all change how I feel about you."

The fine lines around Bones's mouth and eyes showed distinctly in the harsh light as he finally looked up at Kirk. "You mean that."

" _Yes_ , I mean it. Even without the sex, you're my best friend, have been for getting on for three years now, and I wouldn't deliberately hurt you."

McCoy let out a long, shuddering sigh, and he turned his hand to interlace his fingers with Kirk's. "You know I've been with a few other men. Before Jocelyn," he said after a moment.

Kirk nodded.

"I think maybe if I'd been honest with myself, I'd have known that Jocelyn, that any woman, was more the exception than the rule for me. I _like_ women just fine, mind you, and my sex life with Jocelyn always seemed okay. At least that wasn't one of the obvious reasons why we split up. Maybe, though, if she'd been a man I would have made more of an effort in that area... I don't know. Anyhow, what I mean is that since _I've_ certainly been attracted to other men, in the past anyway, I shouldn't be surprised if you are, too, and if you're not doing anything but looking, I don't have much ground to be upset about it. It just really took me by surprise to hear you say you were." He stroked his thumb over Kirk's knuckles.

"Okay." Kirk squeezed gently in response.

McCoy managed a somewhat shaky grin. "Although I think maybe I _will_ do a little research to see if I can find some strategy for toning down your flirtatiousness a bit. My god, man, you _are_ on the command track, and once you have some authority, it'll be inappropriate at best, and very possibly a discipline-worthy infraction of the rules, if you flirt in a noticeable way with your subordinate officers. Myself excepted, naturally, if I'm lucky enough to serve with you," and now the smile was more genuine.

"I would actually appreciate that," admitted Kirk. "Seriously, it's just a habitual response at this point, and half the time I don't realize that what I say, or even how I look at someone, is going to be taken as a come-on or flirtation."

"I don't think you could or would want to eliminate the behavior entirely; part of it is just the Jim Kirk charm. But maybe we can figure out how to get you to tone it down." McCoy reached for one of the PADDs. "I'll make a note to do some research on it, tomorrow maybe."

"Suits me." Kirk pulled his books closer. "I suppose now we should get some of that studying done that I lured you here to... although I wouldn't mind a little of that kissing that you suggested earlier."

McCoy leaned over and brushed his lips across Kirk's cheek. "Me, either."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is dedicated to inell.


	21. Take a Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's spring break at Starfleet Academy.

Although he was not cursed with the problem of time on his hands by any means, over the next week McCoy managed to do some searching in the medical databases to see if he could find anything that would help Kirk to tone down – perhaps – his habit of over-appreciative ogling of others.

There was nothing that dealt directly with the issue, as McCoy had rather expected. Surprisingly, the computer pulled up some long-discredited work from the late twentieth and early twenty-first century that purported to "cure" people of same-sex attraction, but that was hardly what was wanted even if there had been any validity to it. More likely to be useful seemed articles on overcoming unwanted habits in general. Those divided roughly into two camps: those that advocated conscious avoidance of the _undesired_ behavior coupled with repetitive practice of the _desired_ behavior; and those that suggested that finding and treating the psychological roots of the behavior was more effective.

McCoy had a reasonably good background in psychology, although he had tended to emphasize xenopsych. His considered opinion was that with Kirk's background, it would take years to untangle and deal with his various psychological wounds. Kirk had developed his own methods of coping with his personal traumas, methods that worked well enough as far as McCoy could tell, and as a doctor he hesitated to disturb that achieved equilibrium without dire cause.

Instead, therefore, he selected a dozen or fifteen articles on repatterning unwanted behavior, and sent the list to Kirk with a note to indicate that this was the best and most useful research he'd found.

The entire situation had him off-balance. On the one hand it was good not to be trying for complete discretion anymore; he wasn't concerned all the time that someone would guess his secret. The idea that Kirk was now checking out other men bothered him more than he had been prepared to admit, however, even though he realized that at least part of it was simply that this was how Kirk behaved with anyone who might be of potential sexual interest. Now that he had acknowledged he could be attracted to men, it was only natural that he would respond to them in very much the same way he had for so long responded to women. It was ridiculous to think that he, McCoy, could or would be the sole exception for an otherwise wholly heterosexual Kirk.

Kirk thanked him for the information that night, and beginning the following day McCoy could tell that Kirk was already making efforts to practice some of the suggested techniques for behavioral modification. McCoy noticed fewer appreciative glances even at the most attractive of the female cadets, and far fewer at the men, although he did still flirt verbally on a regular basis. If he had stopped _that_ altogether he wouldn't have been Jim Kirk. McCoy could live with what he was doing, bolstered by Kirk's assurance that emotionally McCoy was the only person he needed or sought.

Starfleet Academy retained the quaint old tradition of a one-week spring break. Some students took advantage of the chance for a holiday, others availed themselves of one of the optional intensive short courses that the Academy offered over the week. In previous years Kirk had taken freefall and space suit training, and a course on inter-species protocols. McCoy, by contrast, had always just continued to work his usual clinic shifts, otherwise welcoming the chance to catch up on much-needed sleep.

"So, what is everyone doing on their spring break?" Kirk asked with seeming casualness at dinner, the Monday before it began.

"I'm going to do that freefall and space suit training that you mentioned you took," said Sanchez. "It sounded like a good way to get that experience, and I'll need it if I decide to stay in the command track."

"You're thinking of switching?" Adamson asked. "To what?"

"Levibotany," she answered. "That was the part of the intro to spaceships class last fall that I really found fascinating; how to maintain an atmosphere and feed the crew, all in one. I can see myself as the leader of a team of scientists someday, but I'm not sure I'm cut out to make the kinds of decisions that a captain has to. But I'm still going to take the freefall class, just to see what that's like."

"I had it last year," volunteered Sidhu. "The trick is to try to make sure you haven't eaten or drunk anything for several hours beforehand if you can help it. The first few times, anyhow."

"So if you took that course already, what are you doing this year?" asked Baden.

"Since this is my last year, I'm going to go home and see my family," he said. "Space travel isn't nearly so dangerous as it was in the early days, but you never know what will happen, and any way, depending on what class of ship you're assigned to, some of them don't come back to Earth more than every two or three years at best."

"Makes sense to do that, then." Chen nibbled on a carrot. "I'll visit my family in my final year, maybe, but that's not for at least two more years, more if I change specialties again."

McCoy shook his head. Chen was already notorious for having somehow convinced the Powers That Be at the Academy to let him switch tracks three times, or maybe it was four now. "And you're studying what exactly now?"

"Primary specialty in astrophysics, secondary in xenosociology." Chen grinned. "I convinced them that my diverse interests and skills required a unique track."

"You're crazy," said Sanchez, but her tone was more admiring than disapproving.

"Yeah. That's why I'm taking a _real_ vacation over the break this year, though; I'm going to Hawaii to spend the week surfing. Hey Jim, what are you going to do?"

"Well, I've mostly been a good boy and taken classes the last two years over spring break, not to mention summers; so I think I'll also be doing a little R&R if I can persuade someone to help me out with that." Kirk cocked his head and looked deliberately around the table, his gaze lingering on each of the women a fraction longer than on any of the men, until he reached McCoy and said, "How about it Bones? Want to aid a hard-working Iowa farm boy in his attempts to improve his pelvic tilt?"

McCoy knew he was blushing; Kirk had never been quite so open in front of their friends before, but he tried to take it in good grace by replying, "I could always prescribe corrective surgery if you're having trouble."

"Would a less radical therapy be effective? I'm not excited about invasive surgery; a little, hm, warmer and more personal kind of invasion could be good." His grin was positively dazzling, but not at all innocent.

McCoy felt his face grow even hotter. He reached for his water glass to give himself time to think of a reply, but Baden cut in.

"Jim, you're incorrigible. If you really want to convince the doc to let you jump him, or whatever, I think you'd better liquor him up a little first."

"I may just take your advice, Sonia," said Kirk, his voice respectful but still with that shit-eating grin on his face. "Bones, you're on notice that I want to discuss this further, soon."

McCoy took a deep breath and nodded, his lips pressed tightly together.

Later, when the group had broken up and he could speak with Kirk alone, heading back across campus, he said, "Could you be more obvious, Jim? You practically had your hand down my pants right there at the table."

Kirk stopped walking, so McCoy was forced to stop, too, and turned to face him.

"Bones, that's who I am and how I act, and you know that. Maybe I took it a _little_ far tonight, but you may not have noticed that were the only person I flirted with in any serious way at all. Can't you give me any credit for trying to stick to you?"

McCoy winced. It was true, and Kirk was right; overall he _had_ toned down his flirtatiousness quite a bit, and perhaps he, McCoy, was just oversensitive about the whole thing. "I'm sorry."

Kirk gave him a long level look, then a decisive nod. "All right. Apology accepted. Now, do you know your clinic schedule for next week? Because since I'm not doing anything in particular, just studying and writing papers and so on, I'm pretty flexible." He winked. "As you know."

Rolling his eyes, McCoy said, "Yeah, I know, you overgrown teenage delinquent. We got next week's schedule last night, but I haven't read it carefully yet. Come on back to my room and take a look."

Matthews wasn't there, and Kirk took advantage of that fact to pin McCoy to his bed and kiss him for a while – not that McCoy objected. Since he didn't know when Matthews would be back he didn't let things go further, which meant that both of them ended up with hard-ons and couldn't do much about them.

"Next week," Kirk breathed in his ear, rutting against his thigh.

"Yes," agreed McCoy, rocking back. He drew in a deep shuddering breath and wrapped his arms around Kirk, holding him tight. "Matthews is going to be gone – up at the spacedock, learning to use some new kind of instrumentation, I don't remember what. But we'll be able to be either here or in your room, since it sounds like Sidhu will be away too."

Kirk pressed a kiss to McCoy's neck. "I can't wait."

The next several days were busy for everyone, finishing things up for the break. McCoy welcomed the distraction. He was looking forward to the chance to spend good chunks of time alone with Kirk. Atlanta had been wonderful, but a large part of his attention then had been on Joanna, of course.

Was there perhaps something special that he could do for Kirk next week? The Valentine's Day "camp" that Kirk had arranged had been awfully sweet. Somehow McCoy hadn't realized that Kirk had such a broad streak of romance in him. McCoy doubted he could come up with anything to match it, but perhaps he could find a nice intimate restaurant or something and take Kirk out to dinner one night. He had several night shifts at the clinic over the break, but there should be an opportunity.

He asked one of the other doctors at the clinic, preferring to be discreet. Vera Drake had been a physician there for something over twenty years, he knew, and lived in the city; he assumed she would have a restaurant suggestion or two.

"Restaurant?" she asked, and took a bite of one of the energy bars that were all she ever seemed to eat on shift. She claimed that she preferred something that was unquestionably just a means of refueling, with reasonable nutrition, to the mediocre food available in the cafeteria, which was why McCoy hoped her judgment of restaurants would be good. "What sort of place were you thinking of – seafood, ethnic, expensive, cheap?"

"Not _cheap_ , but not a place that would cost an entire month's student credit, either," said McCoy.

"The sort of place you would go with a special somebody?" Dr. Drake's glance was sharp but kind. At McCoy's nod, she said, "I think I know just the place. Sort of a pan-Asian cuisine, and heavy emphasis on seafood and local ingredients, although at this time of year that means a more limited range, mostly from greenhouses. Definitely not cheap, but not unreasonable, either. It's called Ichiban."

"That sounds perfect," said McCoy with gratitude. "Thank you."

She shrugged. "No trouble. I hope you have a good time with whoever it is."

McCoy had an overnight shift on Saturday, but then he was off duty at the clinic until Monday at noon. Kirk, hearing that, had suggested that he come over to McCoy's room late Sunday afternoon, "So you can get your beauty sleep," as he put it. "I'll bring some pizza along too; that way we won't have to worry about dinner. And maybe beer."

"Sounds good," McCoy agreed.

He hoped for an easy night Saturday, but that was not to be. At about two in the morning, seven men and two women were brought in, all of them suffering from multiple lacerations. There had been an extensive brawl involving a good deal of broken glass in one of the nearby bars. McCoy and the other doctors on duty spent a long time patching them up, somewhat hampered by the police who were taking statements and trying to figure out who had been the original instigator.

There had been a moment or two when the first of the casualties came in when McCoy feared that Kirk would be among them. For something this extreme, expulsion from the Academy would be the probable result, and McCoy knew it was not impossible that Kirk could have been mixed up in just such a brawl. It was not until after everything had settled down again and there was only an hour till the end of his shift that McCoy thought about it and realized that in fact Kirk had not gotten into _any_ serious fights since October – not since he'd first become aware of McCoy's feelings for him. A punch thrown, maybe, once or twice, and he certainly collected plenty of contusions in his hand-to-hand combat practices, but there'd been no serious brawls.

McCoy nodded thoughtfully. Correlation wasn't causation, of course, but still, it was indicative that Kirk really was toning down his behavior.

At eight o'clock, weary, he went back to his room and showered in the hottest water he could stand. He was about to crawl into bed when he saw the signal that meant he had a message waiting, and looked to see who it was from. Joanna. He listened through it once to assure himself that there was no crisis that required his immediate attention, and was relieved that there was not; just Joanna asking if he could call back sometime that day. He decided he would do so in the afternoon, once he'd had a few hours sleep and before Kirk came over. He'd be better able to give his daughter the attention she deserved once he'd had some rest.

The buzz of the door signal woke him at four-thirty, and he blinked, disoriented, then cursed softly as he responded to let Kirk in. He'd forgotten to set the alarm.

"Hey there." Kirk's smile was infectious and McCoy found himself grinning back.

"That pizza smells good. All I've had since last night was an energy bar, plus a banana at the end of my clinic shift."

"Yeah. That's why I brought it, because you are _definitely_ going to need to keep your energy up." Kirk's grin broadened even further. "I have plans for you, Bones."

"Can we put them on hold for just a little while? Joanna called, and I was too beat to call back this morning, so I figured I'd do after I slept but then forgot to set the alarm and didn't wake up till just now."

"Sure. You want to be private, or can I stay here?"

"You can stay," said McCoy quickly. "Eat, have one of those beers, whatever. In fact I think I'll grab a slice myself: Joanna won't mind." He flipped open the box – mushroom and sausage, wonderful – and picked up a slice, folding it over lengthwise so that it wouldn't bend down and drip cheese and tomato sauce everywhere. Then he pulled his desk chair over to the telephone and made the call.

Jocelyn answered. "Hello?"

"It's Leonard, Jocelyn. Joanna phoned earlier today and asked me to call her back. Is she there?"

"I'll get her."

There was a pause, then –

"Hello, daddy."

"Hello, sweetheart. How are you?" McCoy took a bite of his pizza. It was delicious.

"I'm fine."

"Tell me what you've been up to," said McCoy, swallowing.

"Are you eating?"

"Yes," he admitted. "I was on the night shift last night, and I slept all day. Jim just brought me pizza. But I can eat while you tell me what's been going on with you, okay?"

"Okay." Joanna launched into a recital of what she'd been learning, her enthusiasm evident in every word. She was still excited about the after school pre-pilot training and spent a long time explaining what it entailed.

McCoy had eaten two slices of his pizza as Joanna did most of the talking, and was preparing to end the conversation – Atlanta _was_ three time zones ahead, after all, and tomorrow was a school day for her – when Joanna asked unexpectedly, "Is Jim still there? Could I say hello to him?"

"Sure, honey," said McCoy with considerable surprise. "Just a minute."

He beckoned Kirk over. "Joanna wants to talk to you."

"She does? Okay," said Kirk, crossing the room and reaching for the telephone. "Hi, Joanna, how's it going?"

McCoy stood up, mouthing, "Give me the phone back when you're done," and pointing at the phone and then himself to be sure that Kirk got it. Kirk nodded and flapped his hand, listening hard to Joanna. McCoy opened a beer and drank off about a third of it, a smile touching his lips as he watched Kirk speaking with his daughter. He had never imagined that the two of them would get along so well.

"Okay, let me give you back to your dad so he can say goodbye," said Kirk. "Good talking to you, Joanna." He handed the phone to McCoy with a smile.

"Hi, sweetheart."

"Hi, Daddy. Mama says I should get off the phone now," said Joanna, with a pouting note in her voice.

"Your mama is in charge while you live with her, so we'd better let you go then. I love you, Joanna. I'll talk to you again soon," said McCoy.

"I love you too, Daddy. Goodbye."

"Goodbye." McCoy hung up the phone, and slowly turned around to see Kirk watching him with a peculiar expression on his face. "What?"

Kirk gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Nothing. Joanna is lucky, that's all."

"You think so?" McCoy wouldn't necessarily have agreed, but maybe Kirk was right.

"Oh yes. Definitely lucky... and so am I." Kirk held out his hands to McCoy and pulled him up and out of his chair again, drawing him into an embrace. "She has a parent who tells her he loves her," he said so quietly that McCoy barely heard it.

There was nothing McCoy could really say to that. He had never met Winona Kirk – he wondered why she'd changed her name to that of her first husband, but not her second – and didn't know what her feelings for her younger son really were. Parents were _assumed_ to love their children, but that was not always the case, and even when there was love it could also be mixed with many other emotions. A wave of sadness broke over McCoy and he held Kirk tighter.

The moment passed, and Kirk pulled away. "Another slice of pizza?"

"Not for me right now." McCoy watched Kirk close the box. "We have all the time we want, tonight; how about you tell me what you'd like to do, and we can do it?"

"Mm." Kirk stretched. "I don't know... no, wait. How do you feel about giving backrubs? And then we can go from there."

"If that's what you want, sure." McCoy shrugged. "I'll have to use regular lotion, though, because I don't have any massage oil."

"Lotion, whatever," said Kirk, starting to strip down. "I've been thinking about having those big warm hands of yours on me all day," he added, his voice slightly muffled by the shirt he was removing.

McCoy flushed. "I'll get the lotion," he muttered.

It was in the bathroom, and he glanced in the mirror to make sure he didn't have tomato sauce on his cheek or a piece of basil stuck between his teeth. He considered briefly brushing them, but decided it was unnecessary since Kirk hadn't brushed his. Mutual pizza and beer was better than one of them tasting of toothpaste and the other not. Quickly he urinated, washed his hands, and grabbed the lotion.

Kirk was sprawled out on the bed – well, as sprawled as a grown man could get on such a narrow mattress – with his head turned towards McCoy. Damn, but he looked fine like that. McCoy was still at times astonished that this had happened between them, after all the many months he'd spent imagining it.

"I think you should get naked, too," said Kirk with a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Oh. I guess so," McCoy agreed. He put down the lotion bottle on the nightstand and undressed, hesitating for a moment about whether to leave his underwear on, but finally chucking it, too. Then he got onto the bed and knelt with his knees on either side of Kirk's hips and pumped some lotion into his hand, rubbing it between his palms briefly to warm it before he spread it on Kirk's back. He inched up a little so that he could reach Kirk's shoulders and neck more easily, which left his cock and balls brushing the warm swell of Kirk's ass. He ignored that for the time being, concentrating instead on finding the knots of tension under his fingertips and coaxing them one by one to relax.

"That's really nice, Bones," Kirk murmured into the pillow. " _Really_ nice."

"Thanks." McCoy continued. He found a particularly stubborn spot between Kirk's left shoulder blade and his spine, and smoothed on a little more lotion as he used a firm circular stroke to knead the knot into submission.

Gradually he worked his way down, going back several times to ensure that the tension hadn't returned to where he had already been, until he was at the base of Kirk's spine. He moved his body backward, his thighs protesting as he settled onto his ankles rather than putting his weight on the back of Kirk's knees. His movement jostled his rigid dick, and a drop of pre-come fell on to Kirk's thigh. Once again he pumped lotion into his palm, and then began to knead Kirk's ass. The muscles were firm and resilient under his fingers, and he adjusted his own position so that he could nudge Kirk's thighs slightly further apart, enabling him to reach between them to brush the back of Kirk's balls and then work his finger into the crack, fingertip grazing the tight pucker of Kirk's asshole.

"Go ahead," said Kirk softly.

"I forgot to grab the lube," McCoy admitted.

"Well, get it now, then."

The bottle was only in the drawer of the nightstand, but to find it McCoy had to scramble off the bed and rummage, mentally cursing himself for forgetting and thereby breaking the mood, even if only a little bit. Kirk shifted, his hand underneath him to adjust his dick, grinning at McCoy.

"Found it." McCoy returned to where he'd been and let a good dollop of lube drip into Kirk's crack. Patiently he teased the tight entrance into opening to him, using his other thumb to massage Kirk's perineum at the same time.

"You really want this?" he asked. "I know it's not usually top of your list, after all."

"Tonight it is. Don't you want it too?" Kirk's eyes were dark as he looked over his shoulder at McCoy.

"God, yes," said McCoy hoarsely, as he looked at Kirk spread out before him. "Just making sure, that's all." He took his dick in his hand and slicked it up with more lube before pressing the tip to Kirk's hole. It was tight, so tight as he slid in, careful to take it slowly, to let Kirk adjust to the intrusion.

"Bones." His name sighed ragged out of Kirk's mouth as he filled him, and for an instant he worried that he'd hurt Kirk despite his care, but then Kirk repeated, "Yes, Bones," and he realized that it was quite the opposite. He looked down at where their bodies were joined, in an odd flash of recall remembering what his freshman biology teacher had pointed out, that the entire digestive system was topologically outside, being nothing more than a very long and complicated tube. He had always liked that insight, somehow. Now, though, he pushed the thought away as distracting and stroked Kirk's skin as he thrust, noticing the faded stripes, pale against flushed skin, last remnants of Kirk's childhood. McCoy bent to kiss Kirk's shoulder blade.

"Tell me how you want it."

"Hard," Kirk responded, "so that I'm sore tomorrow, so that whenever I sit down for the next three days I remember this."

McCoy didn't ask if he meant it; he just did as Kirk asked, making his motions as rough, even savage, as he dared. Kirk groaned and pushed his hips back to meet McCoy, his voice rising as he egged McCoy on, interspersing his name with filthy details of just how good it felt to be fucked in that way.

It was a side of Kirk that McCoy had never seen before and wasn't sure he was entirely comfortable with, but he could ask about that later. For now he bucked and grunted and sweated, trying to give Kirk what it seemed he needed or at least wanted tonight, for whatever reason.

He was so focused on Kirk that his own orgasm caught him by surprise, his toes curling and cramping as the heat rushed through him in blessed release. He managed not to collapse onto Kirk, instead rolling to his right side and tugging Kirk's body over with him, reaching to wrap his left hand around Kirk's dick. It was hot, almost dry as he stroked, feeling it swell rapidly back to full erection. "Lube?" he whispered, but Kirk shook his head.

"Like this is good."

Rough was the order of the day, then, so McCoy stepped up the tempo of his stroke and was soon rewarded by the jets of Kirk's come through his fingers. He gave a last few caresses to coax out any last drops, then left his hand loosely cupping Kirk's dick and with some difficulty wriggled his other arm underneath Kirk to embrace him.

"Was that what you wanted?" he asked after a while.

"Yeah." Kirk was quiet for a few minutes, and McCoy almost dozed off despite his earlier nap. "Bones."

"What?" McCoy's eyelids popped open.

"What are we going to do? I mean, after graduation, if we're not assigned to the same ship? I was thinking about that today; I've always known in an intellectual way that it was possible, even likely, but somehow today it really hit me that I _couldn't_ just blithely assume we'd be together, and how much it'll hurt if we're not." Kirk's voice cracked a little as he spoke.

McCoy sighed, shifting so that he had both arms tight around Kirk's chest, pressing close to him, regardless of the damp mess between them. "I don't know, Jim," he said quietly. "It worries me too. I'm not such a romantic as to believe in one true love – if I ever was, Jocelyn would've cured me of that – but that doesn't mean it won't hurt like hell if we have to say goodbye."

"We could," Kirk began, then stopped.

McCoy gave a gulping chuckle. "If you were gonna say that we could promise to be faithful to each other or something like that, forget it. Five-year tour of duty? It wouldn't be fair to either of us and it would only make it more difficult."

"You're right, I know." Kirk sounded glum. "I guess I'll just try not to think about it, because there's really nothing I can do."

"That's true," McCoy agreed. "We just have to enjoy what time we can together, and hope. Speaking of enjoying time together, by the way, you don't have any other plans for Tuesday night, do you?"

Kirk wriggled around so that he faced McCoy. "Nope. This week I'm doing some studying, but whenever you're free, any time you want me, I'm all yours." He didn't say the words "I love you" but the meaning was plain on his face.

"Good, because I'm planning to take you out to dinner that night... and then I'll let you drag me off to bed and have your wicked way with me." McCoy let his lips twitch up in a smile. "Sound like a deal?"

"A very good deal," Kirk said.


	22. No Substitute for Our Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's date night.

"So where are we going?" Kirk asked on Tuesday night. He wasn't in uniform; McCoy had suggested that, and although Kirk actually rather liked wearing 'Fleet uniform in civilian territory, he didn't mind wearing ordinary clothes at McCoy's request, either. He had dug out a pair of the tan trousers he'd worn in Atlanta, and a light blue shirt and the one sport coat he owned, and was now lounging on McCoy's bed, watching him get dressed.

"A restaurant," said McCoy uninformatively.

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Yes, I got that, but what _kind_ of restaurant?"

"One that one of the other doctors recommended to me. I've never been there myself."

"What kind of _food_ do they serve? Damn, Bones, it's like pulling teeth to get anything out of you."

"It's called Ichiban, and I guess some sort of Pacific fusion cuisine is what they do. Seafood. That sort of thing." McCoy's fingers moved rapidly, buttoning his shirt. Kirk had a sudden impulse to go over and unbutton it again.

"You said you'd made a reservation?" he asked, keeping his voice casual.

"Yeah, and if we don't leave in the next few minutes, we're going to be late."

It would bother McCoy a lot if they missed the reservation, Kirk was certain of that, so he pushed aside the thought of persuading him to have sex first, and said, "I'm ready whenever you are."

McCoy tucked in his shirttails and buckled his belt. "Just let me grab a jacket, and my umbrella. They were predicting rain tonight."

They caught a cab to the restaurant, since McCoy wasn't convinced that the bus would get them there before seven. The decor inside was interesting, Kirk thought, with a very Japanese feel despite having Western-style chairs and tables. He was relieved by that, since sitting cross-legged for a couple of hours seemed like it would become uncomfortable. It was also refreshingly quiet. After a minute Kirk realized that there _was_ actually piped music, a whispering flute of some sort, but subdued enough that the restaurant's customers could speak softly and still hear one another. He felt almost as though he was too noisy, following the hostess to their table, where she presented them each with a menu, bowed, and left on noiseless feet.

The menus were written in both English and Chinese, which Kirk recognized a few characters of but couldn't really read.

After studying it for a few minutes, he ordered a salad composed of a surprising combination of seaweed and local baby vegetables, and monkfish crusted in sesame seeds, and a Japanese beer he'd never even heard of before. Rather to Kirk's surprise, McCoy chose a selection of sushi.

When their drinks arrived, Kirk lifted his toward McCoy. "To us."

McCoy bit his lip, but echoed, "To us."

They drank.

"Three more months," mused Kirk, setting down his glass. "I can't decide whether it seems like an eternity or no time at all."

"No time at all." McCoy shook his head. "I can't believe all of the requirements we still have to fulfill before graduation... you more than me. Isn't there still that big command test that everyone in that track has to take?"

"Yeah, the Kobayashi Maru." Kirk smiled at the waitress bringing the dish of edamame they’d ordered as an appetizer, then scowled as he picked one up and shelled it. "No one's _ever_ passed that test."

"Really?" McCoy raised his eyebrows. "I guess it's not as important as they make it out to be, then."

"I'm going to pass it." Kirk made it a positive statement. "I've gotten hold of the records on it for the past ten years. The test isn’t identical every year, but there _are_ certain similarities. I'm going to analyze all of the strategies that have been tried, see if I can figure out why it's apparently unwinnable and how I might beat it."

McCoy's eyes were worried. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Jim? Not the studying part, but getting the old records? Didn't you have to hack into one of the 'Fleet databases to find them?"

"Don't worry about it." Kirk brushed McCoy's caution aside. "I know my way around computers, and how to cover my tracks. All the data is now safely downloaded into a PADD; if there were going to be any problems I'd have already found out."

"If you say so," said McCoy a little dubiously. He ate a few edamame. "When do you think we'll hear about our assignments? We never hear about any of that over in Medical."

"Not for a while yet. Probably not until shortly before graduation. Hey, you remember where we met, at that shipyard in Iowa?"

"Of course."

"Well, the big starship they were building there is supposed to be finished any time now, and I heard a rumor that Captain Pike was going to be assigned to it. Wouldn't it be fantastic if we both got lucky enough to get to be on her maiden voyage?" Kirk grinned. He didn't really _expect_ such luck, although he'd always had more than his share, but a man could hope.

The waitress cleared away the dish of empty edamame pods and placed a small bowl before each of them. Kirk looked at it and stirred experimentally. "What is this?" He didn't remember ordering soup.

"Miso soup," said McCoy.

"Ah." Kirk supposed it must be included with every entrée. He tried a spoonful and discovered that it was better than he remembered.

"Did you get a lot of studying done today?" McCoy asked.

"Some." Kirk glanced at him. "I was also trying to figure out a way to make sure that we be assigned to the _same_ ship, whatever it is. I think I've come up with something."

"Oh yeah?" McCoy looked interested if wary, and drank the last of his soup with a slurp. "How are you going to manage that?"

"I did some searching around to learn how the assignments are actually made. It turns out that any or all of our instructors and supervisors here at the Academy can file recommendations, and those can range from something general like 'he would do better on a smaller ship' to 'I would recommend him as a third lieutenant in the science department of a cruiser class exploratory vessel', and then all of those recommendations get put into your file and correlated."

"Okay, that makes sense, but so what?"

"So, since there's a lot of possible data for each cadet, and they're usually trying to assign well over a hundred individuals with each graduating class, _and_ since existing personnel dispositions are constantly changing out in the fleet, they must be making the assignments by computer, which can juggle all the factors far more efficiently than any person could. I think I've come up with a strategy. What I need to do is program a subroutine that will hook our names together when the computer is doing the sorting; then it will treat us like a single individual, so that we can't be separated."

McCoy looked skeptical. "Can you do that?"

"Oh, sure. There’s probably something similar already in place for working out transfers for married couples, after all."

It struck him then, for the first time, that if they were to get married, he wouldn't have to do this at all: while Starfleet didn't encourage marriage amongst the cadets, precisely because it made it more difficult to place them, it did happen and Kirk knew that in such cases every effort was made to post the pair together. He wasn't ready to suggest that option to McCoy, however. He wasn't sure that he _ever_ wanted to be married, regardless of his feelings for the other person; as an institution it didn't hold much appeal for him. Maybe someday. Maybe. But certainly not anytime soon.

"Anyhow," he continued, "it shouldn't be too difficult, and it certainly doesn't hurt anyone. I might program in a few more linked pairs besides ourselves, too, as a kind of a blind just on the remote chance that anyone notices."

"You're gonna get yourself kicked out, and then we _definitely_ won't serve together," McCoy warned, shaking his head.

Their main courses had arrived, and Kirk took a bite of his before answering. "No, I won't, not for this. If I tried to jigger it so that we were assigned to a specific ship, maybe; especially if it were a ship in a category that either of our instructors had specifically suggested would be unsuitable for any reason. But I can't believe that our recommendations would be so very different that it would be impossible for us to be placed on the same ship at all, as long as I don't try to choose the ship. While yeah, there are certain ones I'd prefer, given the choice, I'd rather be with you than on the latest and greatest vessel in the whole fleet."

Every word was true, but Kirk also liked the way that compliments like that made McCoy turn pink under his five o'clock shadow.

"Just don't get yourself expelled, Jim," McCoy muttered. "Because _I'd_ rather we serve separately than that you get thrown out for conduct unbecoming an officer. You may be on the reckless side but I think you'll be an asset to Starfleet. Eventually. Plus, after all your hard work for three years it would be terrible for you to lose your chance."

"Don't worry, I won't get caught, not over this." Kirk brushed aside McCoy's concern. "I just don't believe in no-win scenarios, that's all, so if I see a way out of one, I'll figure out a way to take it."

McCoy looked as though he might make another protest, but he didn't, simply shrugging in acceptance. He dabbed a bit of wasabi paste onto a piece of sushi and added a slice of pickled ginger before he bit into it.

"What's in that, anyhow?" Kirk asked, glad to change the subject for a time.

"This is tuna." McCoy tapped another piece with his chopstick. "There are also salmon, crab, and octopus."

" _Octopus_?" Kirk would never have figured McCoy as eating something so outlandish.

McCoy nodded. "Not my favorite, actually, but it was a fixed assortment, and I don't _dislike_ it. I like all of the rest quite well." A shadow passed over his face. "Jocelyn and I used to go out for sushi occasionally; I thought it might be good for me to acquire some better associations for it."

Kirk felt warm to hear that. "I hope it works."

"I'm sure it will." McCoy gave him a little smile.

Talking about more inconsequential matters, they finished their meal and left the restaurant.

"Want to go to Ocean Beach?" McCoy asked.

Kirk started to shake his head, but changed his mind. It was a damp foggy night, though not raining yet despite the prediction, but they were both dressed for it, and if they got chilly it would just be an excuse to cuddle close together.

When they'd reached their favorite spot down near the ruins of the old Sutro Baths, Kirk said, "I seem to remember you saying on Sunday something about letting me have my wicked way with you."

"I _did_ say that, didn't I?" McCoy sat down on a convenient stone, bracing his hands beside him, and stretched so that his whole body arched backward. "But if that's what you wanted to do, we should've gone back to one of our rooms, don't you think?"

"We could start out here and go back after a while."

Kirk sat next to McCoy. The rock was barely big enough to hold both of them, so he stood again and instead sat down on McCoy's lap, facing him, and wrapped his legs around McCoy's waist, his arms around McCoy's shoulders.

"Ow," McCoy complained. "You're heavy and this rock is awfully hard."

"Don't be a baby." Kirk bent and kissed him.

After a few kisses McCoy had stopped grumbling. He put his arms around Kirk, one hand slipped under Kirk's jacket, palm warm and firm against Kirk's spine. It was almost like making out in the back of the football stand back in Iowa, Kirk thought, except better because he _knew_ what was going to happen later, and knew too that McCoy wasn't doing this because it would impress his friends or anything like that. McCoy tasted of tea and wasabi and ginger, his tongue probing Kirk's mouth, sending shivers down his spine.

Eventually Kirk shifted – his dick was pressing uncomfortably against his zipper – and McCoy took advantage of the pause to say, "Maybe now would be a good time to leave, before we're both totally unable to walk? Besides, I don't know about you, but I didn't bring anything and I don't want to just rub off against you like a teenager."

"Okay." Kirk unwound himself and stood up a little unsteadily, grabbing McCoy's shoulder to balance himself. McCoy reached out and used Kirk's arm to lever himself to a standing position also.

"How shall we go home?"

"Bus," they both agreed.

They got lucky and a bus pulled up at the nearest stop only seconds after they had reached it. Kirk grinned at McCoy.

"You do have the damnedest luck," McCoy said. "As long as it doesn't run out."

"I know I do, but I make my own luck, too," Kirk said, settling down in the seat and turning his head to look out the window. He liked watching all the streets and people flicker by. "Do you want to go to your room or mine, tonight?"

"Yours," said McCoy. "I don't suppose Sidhu would mind if I borrow his bed, since he's away; I'll change the sheets in the morning if I do."

"We _could_ share my bed."

"The cadet beds are awfully narrow, and you're kind of a restless sleeper, Jim. I learned that in Atlanta," said McCoy. He reached out and pulled the bell for their stop. "How about we just see what happens, and if we fall asleep in your bed, fine, and if not I'll use Sidhu's and make it fresh in the morning. I feel like sleeping in the same room with you and I don't have to be at the clinic until noon tomorrow."

Kirk shrugged. "Whatever, then."

Up in his room, he cocked his head and looked at McCoy. "I think my wicked way with you is going to start by having you undress slowly while I watch."

"Let me use the bathroom first. And can I borrow your toothbrush?"

"Of course." Kirk decided he should probably brush his teeth, too, since McCoy was, and use the toilet while he was at it, after all that beer and tea in the restaurant.

He was quicker than McCoy, and went back out to lie, propped up on one elbow, on his bed until McCoy was ready. He didn't undress but adjusted his clothes so that he could palm himself while he watched McCoy.

"So you want me to strip, then?" McCoy looked a little embarrassed by the whole notion.

"Yeah. Let me turn down the lights. Do you want a little music to get you in the mood?"

"No music." McCoy made a face. "You'd pick some dreadful twentieth-century bump and grind stuff, I know it."

Kirk put on a hurt expression. "Would I do that?"

"Yeah." McCoy rolled his eyes.

"You can pick the music if you want to."

"No, I'm fine with nothing, really. I already feel like a complete idiot, as if I were trying to be showgirl or something."

"Up to you. I'd feel less silly with music, myself." Kirk ordered the computer to turn down the lights. "Okay, go ahead."

McCoy took a visible breath and let it out. He slipped off the sport coat he'd been wearing and laid it on Sidhu's bed. One by one he began to unbutton the buttons of his shirt to reveal a broad chest beneath, his nipples peeping rosy through the springy curls of hair. Kirk wondered how he'd spent so many years chasing women and never realized how sexy a man's body could be. Not that he didn't still find women attractive, sometimes very much so – there was that Orion girl in the Xenolinguistics club, for instance, and who would've thought that green skin could be so hot? – but the male body had all the extra excitement of unfamiliarity, from a spectator's perspective anyhow. He was plenty familiar with his _own_ male body.

McCoy had finished unbuttoning his shirt. He arched his back and extended his arms behind him, so that the fabric slid smoothly down and away, catching the shirt in one hand as it fell and tossing it in a crumpled heap onto the bed. He unbuckled his belt but left it threaded through the loops of his trousers as he started to undo them. Unzipping them revealed the bulge of his erection, clearly outlined against his white briefs. The elastic kept his dick curled over, trapped the way Kirk's still was too. McCoy pulled off his shoes, lining them up a trifle crookedly beside the bed, before pulling his trousers all the way down and off. His socks came next, and finally his underwear, and he stood naked, facing Kirk. The whole time he had made no effort to be seductive, to position himself to best advantage, or to touch himself enticingly. That very straightforwardness, the way that McCoy was almost unaware of the power of his own sexuality, Kirk found more erotic than any more overt display would have been.

He reached out a hand. "Come here."

McCoy lay down beside him, their bodies pressed together on the narrow bed. Kirk ran one hand along McCoy's side, from shoulder to hip, sliding around to squeeze one ass cheek. McCoy smiled.

"That what you wanted, Jim?"

Kirk nodded. "It's a good start. I think I'd better join you in your lack of attire now, though."

He gave McCoy a fast kiss and stood up, shucking off his clothing rapidly and making sure the lube was within reach before rejoining McCoy on the bed. They kissed there for some minutes, legs intertwined so that their dicks pressed close together, rocking against each other until the bed frame began to squeak. Kirk stroked McCoy's skin, finding every sensitive spot until McCoy was squirming, protesting that it tickled. Then he desisted, but only to say, "I want to watch you lube yourself up, get yourself ready for me."

McCoy ran his tongue over his lips and nodded. "Give me the lube." When Kirk handed it over, he squeezed some out onto his fingers and raised one knee, curling over so that he could reach between his legs at a better angle.

Kirk propped himself up to watch.

First McCoy pressed a fingertip against his pucker, easing a bit of the gel inside, then rubbed in a tiny circle until the sphincter relaxed a little. More gel, and his finger slid inside easily. He rotated it in a half circle a few times, pulled out, and went back in with two fingers and more lube. A sigh escaped him, scarcely audible but with a note of contentment to it.

His eyelids had closed in concentration as he worked on himself, and so Kirk whispered to warn him, "Gonna touch you now." He reached and slid his own forefinger in beside McCoy's two fingers, watching McCoy's expression tighten and relax again as Kirk entered him. It was warm, moist from the lube, and strangely almost more intimate to have their two hands together, touching him like this, than when it was Kirk's dick there instead.

Sweat had begun to sheen McCoy's face. "Jim... please..."

"Yes, Bones. I'm here." Kirk shifted, letting his fingers slide away from McCoy's hole. Quickly he slicked up and, after gently pulling McCoy's hand away, pressed his dick against the loosened aperture, sliding smoothly inside.

McCoy drew a shuddering breath and grabbed onto the backs of his thighs, keeping his legs raised as Kirk began to thrust. "Fuck yes, yes."

With each stroke Kirk felt the heat rise within him, lifting him to dizzying heights of desire. _This_ was what he had always loved about sex, this rush, this high, but it was even better with McCoy whom he cared about, hell, who was he kidding, whom he loved. He looked at McCoy's face below him, head tipped back, eyes closed, lips slightly parted as he panted under Kirk's thrusts. Kirk slowed his tempo, wanting to prolong the moment. As his movements became more languid, McCoy opened his eyes and smiled.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." It got a little easier to say each time, Kirk discovered. "This good?" he asked as he changed his angle slightly.

"Oh yeah, it's good." McCoy smiled again. "I won't break, you know."

"No, but _I_ might come too soon," said Kirk.

McCoy seemed to give a little shrug, although it was hard to tell since Kirk's movements kept jostling him. "What's too soon? We have all the time we want tonight to do anything we feel like."

"Yeah, but I'm enjoying this and I don't want it to be over any faster than I can help."

"Fair enough."

Talking had helped cool things down a fraction, though, so Kirk let himself speed up a little. He didn't pound into McCoy the way the other man had done to him on Sunday, but Kirk had wanted it rough then. He hadn't been sure why, so he'd been thankful that McCoy hadn't pressed for any explanation, just given him what he'd needed that night.

He was spiraling up again in a crescendo of arousal, gritting his teeth as he fought to draw it out just a little longer, three more thrusts, two more, one, and the gentle explosion hit him, gushing out through his dick into McCoy's body.

He barely heard McCoy's, " _Yes_ , Jim," as he sank forward, pressing his lips to McCoy's shoulder. McCoy rolled them over, Kirk's dick slipping out of his ass as they moved, and let his legs sink.

"You wanted to watch me undress. Do you want to watch me touch myself now?" he asked in a low voice.

The offer surprised Kirk, given McCoy's earlier reluctance and mild embarrassment over the striptease, but he certainly wasn't going to say no. He nodded, and McCoy wriggled a little away so that Kirk could see him, keeping his eyes on Kirk's face as he reached down and took his dick into his left hand. It had been flaccid while Kirk had been fucking him, but now it quickly hardened in his fist. McCoy didn't use any fancy techniques, just a firm steady stroke, so that the head kept appearing and disappearing through the circle of his finger and thumb.

Kirk watched with fascination. He hadn't seen another man masturbate since he was maybe fourteen, in circle jerks with his buddies as they talked about the girls they wanted to do it with, and back then he'd been too urgent to come himself to really watch anyone else very closely. Besides, being caught staring at another guy's dick would have brought him in for serious teasing or worse. Watching McCoy was hot, though, and if he hadn't just gotten off he'd have been hard in a minute.

He knew McCoy was going to come an instant before it happened, just from the way McCoy stiffened and clutched himself harder. White spurts pulsed through his fingers, splattering against his stomach and the bed. Kirk reached out and dabbed at a splash of it, bringing his finger up to his lips to taste. It tasted pretty much like his own. He squirmed forward and put his lips to McCoy's forehead.

"Thanks, Bones."

"You're welcome, Jim." McCoy's voice was gruff. He pulled Kirk close and they fell asleep in a sticky tangle, narrow bed notwithstanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from the lyrics to "Strip," by Adam and the Ants.


	23. If at First You Don't Succeed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy is somewhat concerned about Kirk and the Kobayashi Maru test.

Kirk's plan to re-jigger the assignment program of Starfleet's main computer so that the two of them would be placed together had McCoy worried. He knew that Kirk was smart enough to _do_ it, and without leaving any evident tracks – hell, it was always possible that they could end up assigned to the same ship anyhow, so it wasn't as if anyone would have cause to suspect – but there was always the chance that his interference with the subroutines would somehow be discovered.

Still, there was really nothing McCoy could do about it. He couldn't pretend to Kirk that he didn't want them to be together, and if Kirk was willing to take whatever the risk was, there was no way that McCoy would be able to persuade him otherwise. Kirk might nod and pretend to agree, but he would do what he thought was best, regardless.

"Only a few more weeks now," said Matthews, interrupting McCoy's thoughts.

"Yeah," said McCoy, pushing his PADD away and turning to his roommate. "Are you ready?"

"Ready to be through with the Academy," said Matthews, shaking his head. "Three years is enough. I'm glad I'm not on the command track; those poor bastards have five years or even longer."

"Usually," McCoy reminded him. "Jim's finishing in three, although I think that's a record." He felt ridiculously proud of Kirk, saying that, in much the same way that he was proud of Joanna's success so far in her pre-pilot training.

"True, true. Although I'm not sure which would be worse, taking five years to get through that program or cramming it into three. I swear I don't know how he finds time to sleep." Matthews yawned and stretched, his spine cracking audibly. "Just thinking about it makes me tired."

McCoy yawned, too. "Neither do I, but I suppose not needing much sleep or else being able to function all right without enough is a good characteristic for a person aiming at command."

"For doctors, too," said Matthews. "If there's an emergency, wouldn't you be on call at any hour?"

"Yes, you're right about an emergency, but even a small ship normally has more than one person with some medical training, so otherwise it's not likely. Thank goodness." McCoy yawned again. "And now all this talk about not sleeping has made me sleepy myself just thinking about it. You about ready to hit the sack?"

That was the biggest drawback to sharing a room, McCoy felt. He didn't especially mind a lack of privacy, or even that it was difficult for Kirk and him to spend discreet time together. What he found most problematic was having to try to coordinate sleep schedules, so that neither of them disturbed the other more than necessary. Matthews being in all those astronomy courses didn't help.

"Oh, sure." Matthews shut off his PADD. "First dibs on the bathroom."

McCoy pulled on his pajamas and lay down on his bed to wait for Matthews to come out of the bathroom so that he could brush his teeth. He dozed off for a moment, but woke when Matthews touched his shoulder.

"Your turn, Doc."

"Thanks." McCoy sat up and went to brush his teeth. He rather liked that Matthews and his other friends and acquaintances here mostly called him "Doc." It was the biggest part of his identity, after all, and something he'd worked hard to achieve. "Leonard" was the name his mother had always used to scold him, "Lenny" was far too juvenile, and "Len" was what Jocelyn had called him, by the end breaking it into two exasperated syllables. He'd considered "Leo" briefly, but he didn't _feel_ like a Leo. So all in all, "Doc" was fine... or, from Kirk, "Bones." Kirk had started in with _that_ nickname almost as soon as they'd met, although McCoy couldn't quite remember how it had happened. It didn't really matter anyway.

Teeth brushed, he went to bed and fell asleep to the sound of Matthews's light snores from the other side of the room.

Word was out now that there was something more between McCoy and Kirk than just friendship, although McCoy at least downplayed the seriousness of their involvement, not denying it but not making a big deal of it either. It was known well enough, though, that the rest of their friends now automatically left the place next to Kirk open at the cafeteria tables, and no one else batted an eye when Kirk patted McCoy's ass as he went to sit down, although McCoy still felt his face heat up.

"Has anyone heard when they're going to start administering the _Kobayashi Maru_ tests?" Kirk asked the table at large.

"I heard that sign-ups will start today, and the testing will begin next week," said Baden.

"Excellent." Kirk grinned around a bite of corn muffin.

"No one's ever passed that test," said Chen, shaking his head. "Why are you so excited about _taking_ it? I'd be nervous as hell."

Kirk cocked his head. "No one passes it, yet everyone graduates... so obviously it doesn't matter whether or not you pass, not to finish the program. Besides, I like a challenge. Maybe I'll be the first ever to succeed."

"Maybe, but if wishes were starships, the whole world would fly," McCoy said with a shake of his head.

Later that evening, though – Sidhu had offered to study in the library, so they were in Kirk's room – McCoy was drawn back to the question of the _Kobayashi Maru_ test and just what Kirk was planning to do about it.

"It would be great if you passed it, of course," he said, "but since no one ever has, it's hardly going to reflect badly on you if you don't. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe it doesn't matter if you pass, that it's all right not to win the encounter?"

"No." Kirk's face, usually so boyish, was set into lines of grim determination that made him look suddenly much older. "I don't believe in – what was it Captain Pike called them, no-win scenarios? There's _always_ a way out, if you look hard enough, and I'm going to find it."

"Okay," said McCoy in resignation. When Kirk was this set on something, there was no way to dissuade him, at least not overtly.

"Yeah." Kirk pulled McCoy into a closer embrace. "Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything stupid, 'cause if I did, I'd lose you."

"Okay," McCoy repeated, not because he was satisfied but because he couldn't think of anything else to say just then. "So what _are_ you going to do about the test?"

"I haven't decided yet." Kirk frowned. "I'm still evaluating all the past years' tests, but it's looking very much as though there _is_ no set of correct choices for any of them."

"You mean they're designed to be unwinnable? It's not just that they're extremely difficult, but actually impossible?"

"That's what I'm saying." said Kirk. "But I'm going to figure out _something_ , Bones. I may not be able to do it before I take the test, but I've read over the rules very carefully, and there's nothing to say that I can't take it twice, or even three times or more, if I want."

"You're crazy, Jim," said McCoy, but he said it in a voice that mingled affection with exasperation. "And I'd better get going. I have a test of my own to study for, tomorrow, and I'm pretty sure mine's one that we _are_ expected to pass."

"Okay. See you at breakfast?" Kirk was already reaching for his PADD, no doubt to work on the problem of the _Kobayashi Maru_ again.

"Breakfast," McCoy agreed, and left.

Kirk was one of the first, if not _the_ first, to sign up for the test the following week. To McCoy's surprise, Kirk opted for the very earliest slot. McCoy would have thought that he would prefer to wait and hear how it had gone for others before taking it himself.

"Why would I?" Kirk asked when McCoy brought up the question. "I already know more details about the setup from studying the old tests and their results than anyone going in blind could ever notice. No, I just need my own experience of this year's test and its particular quirks – and I wouldn't bother with that except that security on the current test is very high. I could get around it eventually, if I needed to, but seeing it for myself is simpler and faster."

Kirk's insouciant attitude toward hacking into the Academy's computer system worried McCoy. Although Kirk might say, _had_ said, that he wouldn't knowingly do anything that would risk separating them – and expulsion would certainly do _that_ – McCoy also recognized the extent of Kirk's stubbornness if he were doggedly after something.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" he probed.

"Damn it, Bones, don't get all mother-hen-ish on me. I'm not one of your patients and you can't order me around."

McCoy tried to defuse the situation with a chuckle. "Well, you know you _are_ one of my patients, technically, since you chose me to be your physician of record."

"I don't care; I'm not ill or sick or injured and you still can't tell me what to do." Kirk glared.

Whatever was triggering Kirk's overreaction to McCoy's concerns, it was probably best to just leave him alone at this point, McCoy decided. "I don't want to fight with you." McCoy had finished his lunch anyhow. He piled up his dirty dishes on the tray. "Good luck with the test tomorrow. You can tell me how it was at dinner with everyone."

The argument with Kirk bothered him. The whole situation encapsulated so many of the traits that made Kirk himself: cocksureness, stubbornness, independence. But taken to extremes... McCoy shook his head. He wouldn't want Kirk to be anyone but who he was, the man with whom he'd started to fall in love back when they first met on the shuttle, and yet he feared that those very characteristics that defined Kirk would prove to be his undoing.

The next day at dinner Kirk said surprisingly little about how the test had gone, despite being peppered with questions from their other cadet friends, none of whom had taken it yet and several of whom would, either this year or another. He ate his dinner, and participated in general conversation, but it was with most of his attention turned inward in contemplation.

"I'm close," was all he would say when McCoy asked him about the test later, when they were alone. "I'm signed up for a second go in a few days."

"Shall I sign up to be on that mock crew?" McCoy asked cautiously. Officially other cadets signed up to play crew members for whomever was taking the test at a given time, without knowing who that would be, but unofficially they usually did know. McCoy wasn't sure if Kirk would want him there to watch, however, not if he wasn't certain he would pass the test.

A shrug from Kirk. "If you want. They always need more crew."

"I'll do it," McCoy decided. "What day and time?"

"Thursday, at three."

"Damn. If I remember, you have to sign up for a two-hour slot, since the length of the test depends on how the test-taker does, and I have a clinic shift that day which starts at four."

"It's okay, Bones. Really." Kirk smiled, looking more like the cheerful man he had been last fall than he had in a long time. McCoy smiled back.

"I'll see if someone else from the group can do it and maybe tell me what it was like afterward. That'll be good enough, I suppose."

None of their close friends, as it turned out, were able to act as crew for Kirk's second attempt at the _Kobayashi Maru_ test, but McCoy found out that a cadet who was on the fringes of their group, a young pilot called Hikaru Sulu, had been there. He made a point of looking Sulu up and asking him what Kirk's test had been like.

"Why do you want to know?" Sulu looked faintly puzzled.

"I'm his... friend." McCoy let the pause last just long enough so that Sulu could read it to mean that they were something more than just friends. "And it was his second time, but he never told anyone much about the first. So I wondered."

Sulu shrugged. "He was in command the whole time, no question of that: not panicking or anything like someone I saw take the test earlier this week. I suppose, since it was his second time, that was why he didn't seem surprised when the Klingons defeated us, just angry. He ordered a lot of maneuvering. Not just defensive moves, either, but some that were really more offensive, and that's pretty unorthodox for that kind of situation. It was as if he _wanted_ to draw out the engagement as long as he could, regardless of whether it would help. Is that the kind of thing you wanted to know?"

"Yes," McCoy said. "I wanted to be there myself but it was impossible for me."

"It's always like that, isn't it?" said Sulu. He broke into a smile. "I'm glad I could help. For what it's worth, even though I've heard some mixed things about Jim Kirk, after seeing him in action, I think he'll be a good commander and I wouldn't mind serving under him sometime."

"I don't think I'll tell him that, if you don't mind." McCoy grinned back. "Jim has enough problems with an oversized ego as it is."

"Yeah, that's what I hear. Nice guy though. See you around, McCoy."

It was reassuring to know that someone like Sulu thought that Kirk showed good leadership, but McCoy also managed to find time to look up Kirk's reported results for himself. The specifics of the test were secured, as were the criteria according to which the cadets taking it were evaluated, but a summary of each test-taker's actions during the test and the duration of it were openly reported. McCoy was able to discover that Kirk had kept his vessel intact and in fighting order longer than anyone else so far this year by some minutes. He wasn't sure if the results were comparable from year to year, since the test was changed regularly, but from what he could tell, Kirk's record was considerably better than anyone's from the previous few years, too.

He said as much to Kirk, cautiously, a little worried that he might take offense at the idea that McCoy had been checking up on him.

"I know," Kirk said. "One of the instructors – Kishlansky, you know, the one with the blond mustache? – said something about that when I was leaving."

"So you should be satisfied now," probed McCoy.

Kirk shrugged and changed the subject. "When's Matthews supposed to get back tonight?"

McCoy glanced at the time. "Not for another couple of hours."

"Well, then. I think we should put a little of that interval to good use, don't you?" He stood up and grabbed McCoy's hand, pulling him towards the bed.

Although he wasn't especially in the mood and had a lot of studying he needed to do, McCoy went along with it. One reason that Jocelyn had left him, so she said, was that he was selfish, putting his own needs before hers every time. Or putting his patients' needs first, but she saw that an excuse – which, to be fair, it occasionally had been. At any rate, McCoy didn't want to fall into the same pattern with Kirk. Better to cooperate sometimes even if he didn't really feel like it, so that when it _was_ a real problem for him to feel in the mood, Kirk would be more willing to understand.

Besides, he had to admit when they were both naked and kissing, when you got down to it, sex with Kirk was always pretty good. He squeezed Kirk's ass, and Kirk responded with a chuckling growl, biting harder at McCoy's throat.

"Hey, careful, no marks please. I don't want to look like I've been attacked by a vampire," McCoy said.

Kirk stopped and looked at him with a wicked smile tugging at his lips. "No? How about a little sucking elsewhere, then? In fact, I was thinking it would be fun to try doing it at the same time, a 69, you know."

"Okay," McCoy said, although he had always felt that position was overrated. If you paid proper attention to what you were doing to your partner, it was hard to enjoy what that person was doing to you; and if you focused on your own pleasure, you were liable to either slack on your efforts or else bite by accident, which was worse.

Curled up on the bed, though, it was better than remembered, maybe because he was with a man – more room to breathe, it seemed like – or maybe because it was not just _any_ man, but _Kirk_. He sucked at just the tip of Kirk's dick to begin with, only gradually letting more of the shaft slide between his lips, using his hands to rub the base and caress Kirk's balls. He could feel the wet suction of Kirk's mouth on his own balls, Kirk's tongue massaging the loose skin. When Kirk stroked with gentle pressure over his perineum and back to his asshole, McCoy did have to pause briefly in his own ministrations as he became accustomed to the additional sensation, but as Kirk established a slow rhythm of strokes there, McCoy was able to relax into the feeling and return his attention to pleasing Kirk. He bobbed his head up and down, the trained doctor in his mind cataloging both of their physiological responses but the greater part of his brain occupied merely with pleasure, and how to both get and give more of it.

He was quite content with the steady pattern of caresses, pulling him on a slow but inexorable path up toward orgasm, when Kirk unexpectedly groaned and came, semen spurting into McCoy's throat. McCoy choked and coughed, pulling away to try to breathe. Usually he could tell from Kirk's responses if he was about to come, but not tonight, and with no verbal warning either, he hadn't had a chance to prepare himself.

"Shit, Bones, I'm sorry," said Kirk, his apologetic face appearing in front of McCoy. "I didn't mean to do that."

"I know," McCoy managed to say, his eyes streaming. He coughed once more, swallowed a couple of times, and shook his head. "I just wasn't quite ready for it yet, is all. No big deal."

"Ready for me to go finish you off?" asked Kirk.

"Sure." McCoy inhaled carefully a couple of times and stretched out again. He sucked in another breath as Kirk's mouth closed once again around his dick. He twisted his hands into the bed sheets as he felt Kirk's fingertip flirting again with his asshole, and said, "Yeah, put it in," in a ragged voice, sighing with relief when Kirk did so. That was the reason he'd been disappointed when Kirk had come so soon, really; he loved it when Kirk fucked him. Not that this was at all bad, of course. Kirk's finger inside and thumb outside on his perineum between them were sending delicious shocks up his spine, and that mouth...! Kirk was sucking a little harder now, his head bobbing up and down, lavishing his tongue over McCoy's rigid dick.

"Jim, Jim," McCoy muttered, unclenching one hand to reach down and touch Kirk's head.

Kirk glanced up, the skin around his eyes crinkling with the smile his mouth could not at that moment make, and stroked a little harder, sucked a little deeper.

"Yeah – god, Jim – gonna come," babbled McCoy, and felt his muscles tense as he spurted down Kirk's throat. Kirk stayed on him through the last aftershocks of orgasm, nuzzling him clean before crawling up the bed to press his body against McCoy's.

"That was fantastic." McCoy put his arms around Kirk. "You've spoiled me, you know. I can't even imagine being with anyone else. Not that I had been in a long time anyhow, as you know. But still."

"Mm. When we're together like this I can't, either."

Tiny warning bells rang in McCoy's mind at hearing that qualification, but he ignored them. Except for some kissing and groping with women, which he, McCoy, had more or less encouraged, Kirk had been monogamous since last fall, as far as McCoy knew. There was no real reason for concern. They'd just had some pretty damn fine sex, and were getting along fine out of bed too, allowing for end-of-program stresses. He put the idea out of his mind and patted Kirk's ass.

"Can't lie around too long, kid. Matthews will be back and you know how he gets embarrassed if he sees anything. He doesn't mind that stuff goes _on_ , he just doesn't want to have to see any evidence."

"Yeah, yeah." But Kirk sat up and began putting his uniform back on.

After a moment, McCoy got up and did likewise. One thing to be said about a mutual blow job, there was virtually no cleanup necessary.

By the time Matthews got back to the room, Kirk was gone and McCoy was intent on his studying.


	24. Not Go Tamely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk doesn't always play by the rules.

Kirk's fingers flew over the keyboard, tapping out the last lines of code. He went over the program once more, catching and correcting several small errors, before testing it. He had had to include recognition code, so that the subroutine would only function if he, Kirk, were the one taking the exam, but that had been trivial compared to the rest of the programming. There was no way he could carry out a complete simulation without using so much memory and processor speed that it would be noticed, but he could check for major problems.

A frown creased his face. There was still a distinct flicker, a slowdown, when his subroutine kicked in. He had thought he'd fixed that. All the rest of it seemed to be working fine, however, and glitches did happen even in the real program; he'd seen the notations in the older files. Unless some previous student had attempted the very same thing he was attempting? Possible, but Kirk rather doubted it.

Stopping the simulation, he now began the ticklish business of installing his subroutine into the main Academy computers. When he was finished, he exhaled a relieved breath. It was done and there was no turning back. If the rules of the game made it unwinnable, then Starfleet itself was cheating, and all he had done was to redress that.

He'd inserted his extra code into the job assignment program earlier. That had been relatively simple, since there was already a subroutine to ensure that married couples were posted together unless they elected otherwise. All Kirk had had to do was piggyback onto the existing code.

He glanced at the clock. He had just time to get to combat practice. Good. He needed the workout, and welcomed the opportunity to focus on his body for a change. There had been too much intellectual work of late for his taste.

With the pressure of developing this program subroutine off his mind, Kirk had an excellent session, sparring with the master more than once. Jiang gave him an approving nod at the end, and Kirk went off to the showers whistling.

There hadn't been a chance to sign up to take the _Kobayashi Maru_ test yet again, but he would do so tomorrow. Kirk was in a fine mood when he got to the cafeteria for dinner, and smiled at everyone as he sat down beside McCoy. He'd chosen lasagna and green beans and a salad for his meal, digging in with appetite and following up with an enormous wedge of chocolate cake washed down with milk. McCoy rolled his eyes at Kirk's choice of dessert, but Kirk teased him back by dredging from his memory the fact that chocolate had once and for a long time been considered an aphrodisiac, at which comment McCoy flushed and looked away, muttering under his breath.

McCoy was irresistible when he turned pink under the shadow of his evening stubble. Kirk leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Sidhu has a special lecture to go to tonight, some visiting physicist I think he said. Want to come over?" He was tempted to lick the curve of McCoy's ear, but held back; McCoy wouldn't tolerate such a public display of affection.

As Kirk sat up straight again, McCoy flicked a glance at him and nodded, and Kirk felt the familiar surge of excitement in his groin.

He spent the rest of the meal with half his mind on the bantering conversation at the table, and the other half on what he wanted to do with McCoy that night.

"We're gonna take a shower together first," he announced when they were back in his room and Sidhu had left.

"A shower?" McCoy arched his eyebrow.

"Yeah," said Kirk. "It's small for two, I'll give you that, but we can wash each other."

He caught and held McCoy's gaze as he was soaping McCoy's back by reaching around him. Deliberately he ran his fingers over McCoy's ass, soaped them again, and probed into the crack. He could see McCoy's throat move as the other man swallowed, but McCoy shifted and stepped his feet apart a little further so that Kirk could soap him well there. Kirk suppressed a grin and bent to flick his tongue over McCoy's nipple, heedless of the spray of water hitting the side of his face. With the other, still open eye he could glance down and see McCoy's dick, already in its hardness twin to his own.

"I think we're clean enough, don't you?" said McCoy, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah." Kirk turned off the water and grabbed a couple of towels, tossing one to McCoy. Neither of them bothered to do more than a cursory job of drying, just enough so that Kirk's bed wouldn't get saturated. After all, he'd be sleeping on it later, though McCoy wouldn't.

Kissing McCoy still surprised Kirk sometimes, the _largeness_ of it. It wasn't a question of the size of his mouth, nor was it the way he could be forceful, even aggressive. Kirk had known women who were just as assertive and physically as large, their mouths anyway. No, it was something else, some other quality that McCoy brought to bear, perhaps the way he seemed to really pay attention to the kisses, not thinking ahead to what they would do next. That was all right; certainly tonight Kirk was happy to be the one doing the planning.

He began by nibbling his way along McCoy's jaw. The beard stubble abraded his lips slightly but not painfully, only making them more sensitive. McCoy gasped when Kirk bit the base of his throat, sucking to leave a mark – right there it would be covered by the collar of the cadet uniform anyhow – and then soothing the skin with his tongue.

Kirk licked his way down McCoy's chest to find a nipple, flat and smooth in its nest of hair. As he suckled it, he slid a hand over McCoy's stomach down to his groin and started to fondle his balls.

"Fuck, oh yeah," said McCoy breathlessly above him.

Kirk grinned to himself as his lips followed the path his hand had taken, until he was settled in between McCoy's legs and bathing McCoy's balls with his tongue. With his right hand he rubbed McCoy's dick, long slow gentle strokes that wouldn't get him off yet, just feel good, and with the forefinger of his left hand he started teasing McCoy's asshole, coaxing it to relax.

McCoy was groaning above him, hips straining as if to ask for more from Kirk, who eventually told him to roll over and get up on his knees. McCoy did so, wrapping his left hand around his dick and leaning his head against his right forearm on the bed. Kirk considered telling him not to touch himself, but decided it would be okay. He grabbed the lube and knelt behind McCoy, but before he applied it, he bent down and swiped his tongue over McCoy's ass, starting at the back of his balls and going up over his puckered hole, rubbing the flat of his tongue over it repeatedly.

"Jim," said McCoy in a strangled voice. "For god's sake, just fuck me."

Quickly Kirk lubed him, slicking his own dick too, before sinking into the tight heat. He adjusted the angle slightly on each of his first few strokes, until he heard McCoy gasp, and then rode him hard, hanging onto McCoy's hips with both hands and letting himself go.

It wasn't that he didn't care whether McCoy came; he had no doubt that if it didn't happen while Kirk was fucking him, they'd make sure it did afterward. But it was fantastic to be able to focus on his own excitement, his own orgasm, and know that his partner trusted him that they would both come sooner or later. With women he'd felt obliged to make sure they came first. Perhaps that was more because the women were nearly always one night stands, but Kirk still appreciated having more options with McCoy.

A cry, and Kirk's dick felt the clenching spasm of McCoy's ass in an orgasm that triggered his own, the contractions milking out his spunk. He gave a last couple of thrusts to draw out the last of his pleasure, and collapsed forward, wrapping his arms around McCoy's torso and rolling them over onto their right sides, spooned together, Kirk's dick still inside McCoy until as they rested it finally slid out.

"That was great, Jim," said McCoy after a few minutes.

Kirk pressed his lips to McCoy's shoulder. "For me, too."

He could hear McCoy's breath slowing, feel how the beat of his heart calmed. He felt almost languorous himself, a sensation he rarely experienced except at times like this, just after sex. There was always so much to do, it seemed, that both his brain and body felt the need to keep moving all the time.

"I'll miss this."

Kirk wriggled his arm out from under McCoy's body and propped himself up so that he could see his face. "What do you mean, 'you'll miss this'? The term's not over yet, to begin with, _and_ I've set it up so that we'll be assigned to the same ship, whatever it is, so we won't be separated even then. Or don't you believe that I can arrange that?"

"I believe you _can_ ," said McCoy slowly, "but I wish you _wouldn't_. It concerns me that you're breaking rules just for our benefit."

"It's not something that causes any harm to anyone," said Kirk, hurt. "I suppose maybe you could argue that there might be someone who doesn't get an assignment he or she would otherwise have gotten, but even _that_ isn't a certainty. There's no harm done by it, any more than there's harm in assigning a married couple to serve together. It's just that we're not married."

"No, we're not," McCoy agreed. "I'm sorry, Jim, but I'm not altogether comfortable with the idea that we would be secretly benefitting, in a way claiming a privilege that isn't rightly ours, even if – as you say – it doesn't do any harm."

"I already have the code in the computer. Do you want me to take it out?" Kirk demanded. "I'll warn you, the more I go in there and mess around, the more likely it is that my intervention might be noticed."

That was true, so far as it went, although it was improbable that his changes and additions would ever be noticed by anyone. He wasn't above letting McCoy think otherwise, though, not when the result would be good for them both in the long run.

McCoy got up. "Be right back."

He disappeared into the bathroom and Kirk heard water running for several minutes. McCoy returned, toweling himself off briskly, and began to dress. Kirk hadn't been quite ready to get dressed again himself, but being naked when McCoy was clothed would put him at a slight psychological disadvantage, even though he was comfortable in his own skin.

"Wait for me," he said as he went to rinse off sweat and semen from his own body.

Upon his return, he found McCoy hunched over a PADD and tapping away at it furiously.

"Bones."

"What?" McCoy didn't look up.

"This is important; look at me."

With a sigh, McCoy swivelled in the chair so that he faced Kirk. "All right, what?"

Kirk spoke slowly. "What is it, exactly, that bothers you so much about me tweaking the computer to treat us as a couple for our posting assignments? Is it that we're implicitly claiming a status that isn't ours? Or is it that it's not one hundred percent honest? That I might get caught? Or, maybe," he paused, having only just thought of his final point, "maybe that you still don't really want there to be anything that publicly connects us, relationship-wise?"

McCoy paled, then flushed, and his throat worked for a moment before he spoke. "I – I don't know. I hadn't thought about it like that, just that something about it makes me uneasy."

"Because if it's that breaking the rules makes you so uncomfortable," Kirk continued, still measuring his words, "this between us is never gonna work, because I _do_ break rules when I think it's necessary and I see no advantage to be gained by keeping them. That's what I've always done, that's part of who I am. I would've thought that you understood that by now, but maybe not."

"Yeah," said McCoy, but the way he said it was just an acknowledgment that he'd heard, not an agreement.

They stared at each other, and McCoy dropped his gaze first.

"I need to think about this for a while. I do," he swallowed again,"I do love you, Jim, believe _that_ if nothing else."

"I believe you. I love you too, Bones," he replied, and it was true, but he knew he couldn't stand to get into this right now. "But I think maybe you'd better leave for tonight."

It felt funny to say that. A year ago he would have welcomed a discussion, even an argument, something that would give him a chance to exercise his mind. But a year ago he hadn't cared about McCoy the way he did now, and the idea of fighting about whether or not McCoy really loved Kirk for what he was felt like exposing a raw scrape to a dust-laden Iowa summer wind.

"All right." McCoy stood and silently gathered his things. He hesitated by the door. "Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?"

"Of course," said Kirk.

"Okay. I'll see you then."

Sidhu would be back in an hour or so. Kirk tidied up the room, grabbed his PADD, and flopped down on his bed to get some work done. His thoughts kept drifting back to McCoy, however. _This_ was why he'd never wanted to get serious about any girl; there was just too much potential for hurt, and evidently that didn't change when the other person was of the same sex. Not that he should have expected anything different, he supposed, but somewhere in the back of his head he'd thought that there might be fewer misunderstandings with another man.

Fiercely he wrenched his attention back to astrophysics. He was still studying when Sidhu returned, and kept on with it until he finally nodded off over the screen sometime after one in the morning.

 _Third time pays for all_ , thought Kirk as he signed up to take the _Kobayashi Maru_ test once more, ignoring the startled look of the secretary who had seen him twice already. He'd garnered enough information from his first two attempts to be certain that his subroutine was the only way to win the simulation.

He'd been careful, this time, to sign up for a morning slot, when McCoy could be there. He wanted his lover to see his triumph in person. That would justify everything he'd done. Kirk's grin widened at the thought. _Oh yeah, this is going to be great._

Jogging across campus to meet up with McCoy for lunch, he found himself scoping out practically every cadet he saw. It was the excitement, he knew; he felt as if his blood was carbonated, anticipating his defeat of the unbeatable test. It was with great disappointment that he learned that McCoy had been called to take an extra shift at the clinic that night, one of the other doctors having caught some as yet unidentified bug. Kirk had counted on being able to calm himself down enough to sleep by doing something with McCoy, whether drinking or having sex or even just talking.

On impulse he decided that he'd go out drinking anyhow. He rarely got hung over and there was no way he'd be able to relax enough to go to sleep if he didn't do _something_. First, though, he remembered, there was a Xenolinguistics club meeting that evening. The president had changed the meeting day this time because she had some unexpected conflict, Kirk couldn't remember what. All right, then, he'd go to the Xeno meeting, then go out to his favorite bar.

"Hey, Jim."

Kirk grinned in response to the waving hand and dropped into the chair beside its owner. "Hey, Gaila. How's it going?"

Gaila pouted attractively. "I am _so_ ready for this term to be over so that we can get on with our lives. I can't wait to find out what ship I'm posted to, can you?"

"No." Kirk watched with admiration as Gaila inhaled deeply and sighed dramatically. Who would've thought that all that green skin could be so enticing? He was distracted enough by her cleavage that it took a moment for him to realize the meeting had been called to order, and he kept sneaking glances throughout the hour.

"Want to come back to my room?" Gaila asked when the formal part of the meeting was over, and the members were standing up and milling around, socializing for a few minutes before they went their various ways.

The invitation caught Kirk by surprise. He knew the reputation of Orion women – who didn't? – so there wasn't much question about what she was offering, but he'd figured that his attachment to McCoy was well enough known by now that no one would bother trying to do more than flirt anymore. Apparently he was mistaken, for it seemed that Gaila either didn't know or didn't care that Kirk was taken.

She was still waiting for his answer. "Sure," he said abruptly. He didn't _have_ to do anything he didn't want to do, after all, and he didn't need to tell McCoy about it either. He'd kept up with all his anti STD shots, so however much or little they did, it would be safe.

Gaila was a good kisser, more responsive than most women to both kissing and to the caresses she encouraged Kirk to give. Bit by bit they wriggled out of most of their clothes so as to be able to touch more.

For all the coolness of its color, Gaila's skin was warm and smooth against him. It was exciting, being with a new woman again. Kirk had missed that. He hummed in the back of his throat as he kissed the juncture between Gaila's neck and shoulder, tasting the sweet spiciness of her skin. When she drew them down onto her bed he didn't hesitate in going along.

"Jim – I think I love you."

Gaila's words caught Kirk by surprise. That was the sort of line he was accustomed to saying to women to encourage them, not one he expected to hear himself. Moreover, he realized, he was no longer comfortable hearing it when he knew it didn't mean anything much. "That is so weird," he said, hardly realizing the effect the statement might have.

It broke the mood completely, was what it did.

"Lights," snapped Gaila to the computer, and sat up. They had just begun to wrangle over what Kirk had meant when the noise in the hallway of her roommate returning caused Gaila to shove Kirk under the bed. As soon as her roommate began to talk, Kirk realized that it was Uhura, president of the Xenolinguistics club, whose first name Kirk had been trying to discover ever since he'd gotten into that bar fight over her, back before he joined Starfleet. He could have just looked it up in the computer, of course, but that was too straightforward; he preferred a more personal approach, although all his attempts to date had failed.

Uhura was undressing, and Kirk got a nice eyeful before she heard him breathing under Gaila's bed and called him out. He tried to ingratiate himself with her by asking about the Klingon conversation she'd overheard and had been trying to describe to a wholly uninterested Gaila, but she would have none of his small talk.

Kirk didn't mind _too_ much being thrown out. The mood with Gaila had already been broken, and he found he was more relieved than otherwise. He'd proved to himself that he was still capable of attracting and being attracted by women; if things were to go totally sour with McCoy, it wasn't as if he wouldn't have other options.

For now, though, he headed back to his room. There was still time for a decent night's sleep before he took the _Kobayashi Maru_ test for the last time, and showed Starfleet that James Tiberius Kirk would not go tamely down to defeat.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few bits of dialogue in this chapter were taken from the film.


	25. Can't Break Free from the Things That You Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of the Romulan attack, McCoy learns something that provokes a personal crisis.

The way that Kirk lounged in the captain's chair in the simulation room was almost offensive in its casualness. He crunched his teeth into an apple and grinned around it, chiding Uhura for failing to address him as "Captain" and practically smirking as he ordered the crew to hold fire. The level of bafflement in the simulator room was so high that McCoy could have used it for an operating table; of Kirk's mock crew, only one responded with equal lightheartedness to Kirk's insouciant attitude.

Kirk had jimmied the program somehow, no question about it. There was no other explanation for the results. McCoy only hoped that Kirk wouldn't get caught.

He did.

They had tacitly agreed to put aside their discussion of what their relationship was about and where it was going, in order to have celebratory sex, skipping lunch to make the time. It was during the languid afterglow phase that Kirk's phone rang.

"Guess I'd better get that." Kirk picked it up. "Jim Kirk here."

There was a short pause. "Yes, of course, sir." He hung up. "There's to be a general assembly of all Starfleet Academy cadets and commissioned officers tomorrow at 0900 hours."

McCoy frowned. "And they're _calling_ each of us, individually?" Assemblies were usually scheduled in advance, and although mandatory whenever they occurred, cadets were notified by electronic message, not telephoned. Everyone was warned on arrival at the Academy to check messages often, for they would be held responsible if they missed important information.

Kirk shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because it's last minute? If they're calling everyone, I bet it's alphabetical. You'll probably have a message waiting for you when you get back to your own room."

"Maybe," said McCoy. He had his doubts, and his suspicions.

"Or, I know," Kirk snapped his fingers, "maybe they're going to commend me on defeating the _Kobayashi Maru_ test?" He laughed. "Now wouldn't that be great? And it would explain why I got a personal call."

"Maybe," McCoy agreed again. He hoped Kirk was right. Receiving a phone call did suggest a special reason to ensure that Kirk was present, but if the instructors had realized what Kirk had done, a reprimand seemed far more probable than a commendation. He kept the thought to himself, not wanting to spoil the mood.

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow." Kirk stretched, as unselfconscious in his nakedness as a cat. "Not to throw you out, but maybe you'd better go; assembly or no assembly, I have a paper due tomorrow, and Sidhu will be back soon. I'll see you at dinner?"

"Sure. No, wait. I have a clinic shift starting at four today, so how about if we meet for breakfast and go to the assembly from there?"

"Breakfast it is." Kirk gave McCoy a light swat on the ass. "Usual table, seven-thirty."

McCoy worried at it the whole time he was working. His hands bandaged injuries, administered injections; his voice gave orders to nurses or spoke in soothing tones to patients; but his thoughts were always on Kirk, hoping his lover was right yet fearing that Kirk had doomed himself by his drive to win by any means.

He snatched a scant few hours sleep, and was up, bathed, shaved, and dressed in formal uniform to meet Kirk for breakfast as promised. He wasn't hungry and only managed a bowl of cornflakes and a glass of juice, plus coffee, while Kirk ploughed enthusiastically into a plate heaped high with scrambled eggs and hash browns and sausages.

"At least have some fruit or something," McCoy felt obliged to suggest.

Kirk grinned at him around a mouth full of sausage, swallowed, and said, "Bring me some and I'll eat it."

Rolling his eyes and grumbling, McCoy stalked over to the fruit counter and chose a half-grapefruit to take to Kirk. Really, the man was ridiculous.

"Thanks, Bones." Kirk dug in his spoon and slurped up a juicy bite.

McCoy refrained from saying anything more, listening instead to the general chatter and gossip of their table mates. Most of the talk was speculation on the purpose of the assembly; luckily Kirk did not share his theory that it was being called on his account.

"Maybe they're announcing our ship assignments?"

"Can't be. There's still weeks of classes left before the end of term."

"Besides, they'd only need the graduating class for that."

"I heard it was some kind of bad news."

"Yeah? What?"

"There's an asteroid headed towards earth and Starfleet has to divert it."

McCoy laughed with the rest at that one.

"Well, I'm ready to go find out what it's all about."

The group dispersed somewhat on the way to the auditorium, but McCoy stuck close to Kirk. They found a pair of seats together near the front. McCoy took controlled breaths to calm the butterflies in his stomach, and thought Kirk might be doing the same, from his silence.

The assembly began, and the butterflies turned to bats.

McCoy had to admire Kirk's poise as he stepped down to face the accusation that he'd cheated. He'd been so sure that it would be the other way around, that he would be commended for his initiative. Personally McCoy could see the matter both ways: technically, yes, Kirk _had_ cheated, but on the other hand, he suspected that most members of Starfleet would prefer to serve under a captain whose primary concern was saving _lives_ rather than always following the letter of the law.

The Vulcan instructor who had filed the charge intrigued McCoy. He'd heard of the man in passing – not a full Vulcan, but half-human. McCoy fairly itched to get his hands on Lieutenant Spock's medical records. The biochemistry of humans and Vulcans was sufficiently dissimilar that he could not imagine that either conception or gestation could have occurred normally, but he could not recall seeing anything about the case in the medical literature.

He brought his attention back to the hearing before him, where Kirk was still defending his actions, and if not quite giving as good as he got, doing a damn fine job nevertheless.

How it would have ended was anyone's guess, for the proceedings were interrupted by an urgent message of a distress call from Vulcan itself. The cadets were dismissed to pick up their ship assignments – four weeks early and without a formal graduation, but who cared? – and McCoy moved forward to put a sympathetic hand on Kirk's shoulder and assure him that all would be well sooner or later.

"Yeah, Bones." The smile that Kirk summoned was less devil-may-care than usual, but it _was_ a smile. "Come on, let's go find our ships."

In the shuttle hangar, they crowded around one of the officers in a knot of other excited cadets.

"Jang – _U.S.S. Hood_. Leibowitz – _U.S.S. Newton_. McCoy – _U.S.S. Enterprise_. Moore – _U.S.S. Wolcott_."

The officer's voice continued reeling off cadet names to the end of the alphabet, but Kirk's was not among them. He and McCoy looked blankly at each other for a moment, then Kirk stepped forward.

"Excuse me, sir, but I believe you skipped my name? Kirk, James T."

The man looked at his PADD and shook his head. "I'm sorry. You're not assigned. You're on suspension pending the ruling of the Academy Board."

Another man would have physically reeled, perhaps; as it was McCoy put his elbow his hand on Kirk's elbow to steady him.

"Look, Jim, I've got to go." McCoy said it with regret. All of their hopes, all of Kirk's plans, were crumbling around them, yet if McCoy didn't obey orders and get on the _Enterprise_ right then, he would be kicked out of Starfleet for sure – and what else was there for him? Until they knew if Kirk would overcome the accusation against him, it would be the height of idiocy for McCoy to risk losing his own commission.

Kirk's attempt at a grin was sickly. "I know. Go on, Bones. You can't miss your ship."

McCoy grabbed his hand and squeezed it for a second. He could do no more, not here, not now. Then he turned and strode away.

After twenty yards or so he looked back. Kirk still stood where McCoy had left him, looking lost. McCoy swore. It seemed unfair that Kirk, who wanted to go to the stars so much, should be left behind. A thought tickled his brain. Something they'd talked about last fall, that a doctor could keep with him a patient whom he was treating. He snapped his fingers and hurried back.

"Come on," he said brusquely. "I'm going to get you onto the _Enterprise_ with me."

"What? How?"

McCoy didn't answer right then. He pulled Kirk into the area where medical supplies were waiting to be loaded, and looked around, frantic with haste. There, that would do. Not perfect but the best he could hope for on such short notice.

"I'm giving you a vaccine against a virus carried by Melvaran mud fleas," he told Kirk as he injected a dose into Kirk's neck. Thankfully the stuff acted quickly. "It will give you a mild case of the symptoms."

Kirk was already blind in one eye and staggering as McCoy hauled him over to the shuttle headed for the _Enterprise_. The officer on duty was inclined to dispute him, but McCoy cited chapter and verse of the regulation that allowed a patient to remain under his doctor's care, and pointed out that the man did not want to be held responsible if the _Enterprise_ was missing one of its doctors as it traveled into an emergency situation.

They got on board.

McCoy was so overcome by what he had just done – a maneuver worthy of Kirk himself – that he didn't even feel space sick as the shuttle took off. Beside him, however, Kirk looked almost green in the grip of his reaction to the vaccine.

"I may throw up on you," he muttered, swallowing, but McCoy was too enthralled by the beauty of the space station, with the great ships spaced evenly around its perimeter, to be concerned.

"Jim, look. It's so beautiful," he said, absently reaching for a hygiene bag at the same time.

Somehow Kirk managed to control his nausea, to McCoy's relief – not so much that he was offended by vomit as that it would draw unwanted attention to them. They disembarked with the other cadets, and just barely managed to avoid being seen by Lieutenant Spock, who McCoy doubted would listen to the story McCoy had cooked up. They had better get to sick bay as soon as possible. He could hide Kirk there for a while, until he figured out what to do next.

Kirk would not be long confined to sick bay, however. Following the announcement that gave more details of their mission, he first insisted on locating cadet Uhura, and then racing to the bridge. Not only was he going to blow their cover, he was having an allergic reaction that McCoy feared might actually stop his heart before he would slow down enough for McCoy to treat it.

McCoy did his best to follow the conversation between Kirk, Pike, and Spock, busy though he was attempting to apologize and haul Kirk back to sick bay.

Events moved quickly after that point, but he snatched a moment after the Romulan attack to ask Uhura if it had been at the Xenolinguistics Club meeting that she had talked about intercepting the Klingon distress messages to which Kirk had referred when talking to the captain.

"No," she said, her head tilted, resembling a raptor sizing him up to see if he were rival or prey. "No, I told Gaila, my roommate. Kirk was hiding under her bed, I assume because I had told her I didn't want her to bring any more men back to our room. So it wasn't common knowledge, but he certainly heard accurately, as is now proven."

The look of concern on her face was fleeting, erased first by a slight frown and then by a neutral expression. "Excuse me, I need to monitor the communication frequencies."

McCoy felt as though he had been kicked in the stomach. Gaila he knew slightly, although she was not exactly in their crowd at the Academy; he had treated her once or twice at the clinic. There was only one reason that an Orion woman would have brought a man back to her room, and it wasn't to show him her etchings. Had Kirk...? He couldn't tell from the little Uhura had said whether she had interrupted them before anything much had happened, or not.

Hurrying back down to sick bay, where he knew that Dr. Puri would need his help, he was unable to force from his mind the image of Kirk and Gaila in an intimate embrace. Although they had never explicitly _promised_ to be exclusive, he rather thought they both _had_ been – and Kirk's insistence on getting them assigned to the same ship by means of persuading the computer to treat them as if they were married had strongly suggested that Kirk tacitly thought of them as such.

The unwelcome thoughts were crowded out of his mind, however, when he reached sick bay and saw the devastation that the Romulan ship had wrought.

"Dr. McCoy!" Chapel's strained expression relaxed a trifle when she saw him. "Thank heavens you're all right. Dr. Puri is dead. Come on."

The injured were everywhere, with more pouring in as fast as they could hobble or be carried by luckier crewmates. Grimly McCoy got to work, moving among them, assuring those less gravely injured that they would be seen to as soon as possible, patching up those whose wounds were life-threatening as rapidly as he could manage. He couldn't save them all. Even if Puri had made it, the two of them together could not have done so. Nevertheless he had to keep reminding himself that the deaths were not his fault. It was the Romulans who were responsible.

He resented Spock's interruption, and snapped at him before returning to the urgent and delicate task of removing a large splinter of metal that had become lodged dangerously near a crewman's lung. The man was lucky to be alive. McCoy refused to acknowledge how much of his irritation with Spock had nothing to do with the Vulcan at all, nor even with the destruction and waste of life caused by the Romulan attack.

Some time later – just how long he couldn't be sure; time always behaved strangely for McCoy when there was a catastrophe to deal with – when he had gone in person to report to Captain Spock, it was his continuing anger at Kirk that meant he could not bring himself to support Kirk's demand that the crippled _Enterprise_ should chase the Romulan ship instead of regrouping with the rest of Starfleet. He told himself that if Kirk were more sensible in his approach, presenting the necessity more calmly and persuading Spock through logic rather than showing impetuosity almost to the point of childishness, he would support him. The disillusioned look that Kirk gave him hurt McCoy to the quick, yet was less painful than the knowledge that Kirk had gone home with Gaila, and McCoy could not find it in himself to regret supporting the captain.

When Spock made the decision to maroon Kirk, however, McCoy had second thoughts. He recorded the fact in the medical log, noting in addition that the vaccine and successive treatments might have impaired Kirk's judgment. Such evidence could help once Kirk was retrieved after the crisis was over, when he would presumably be court-martialed.

After that McCoy turned his attention to the refugee Vulcans. Had they been human, he would have treated them for shock, for what shock could be greater than the destruction of one's planet? He had to assume that a Vulcan would experience a similar reaction, but they did not demonstrate it as humans or most other species would have. Their calm was not the numbness that a similarly traumatized human would have displayed. All he could do was to treat any physical injuries, and encourage them to speak with one another about their bereavement.

Discomfort with the unfamiliarity of Vulcan response, along with the realization that however angry he might be with Kirk, it would be infinitely better to have him here on the _Enterprise_ instead of marooned on Delta Vega, contributed to his continuing annoyance with the captain when Spock thanked him for supporting his actions. Honestly. Kirk's impulsiveness went overboard, no question, but McCoy wasn't sure but that Spock's cool logic wasn't worse. It was more annoying, too, since Spock was after all half-human and to McCoy's way of thinking ought to have shown a little more humanity in his actions.

"It's empty." Chapel nudged him.

He was back in sickbay again, helping now with the remaining lesser injuries.

"What?"

"Your hypospray."

"Oh."

He shouldn't be this distracted, he told himself, getting a refill of anaesthetic. Kirk was probably safer on that bleak planet than on the ship, chasing Romulans... assuming they would eventually get around to that.

Kirk's miraculous reappearance, with engineer Scott in tow, overwhelmed McCoy. When Kirk provoked Spock first into attacking him and then resigning the captaincy, it didn't occur to McCoy that the Vulcan would never have done so had he not known that there was a first officer who could take command. That it should be Kirk himself was nothing short of astonishing, but McCoy didn't really care, nor did he mean to insult Kirk by his disbelief. All he wanted to do just then was drag Kirk away and have it out with him, demanding to know what had happened with Gaila. In return McCoy would have apologized for failing to have supported Kirk against Spock.

That desire would have to wait. Survival, and the safety of Earth itself, came first.

McCoy gritted out the time from Kirk and Spock's departure for the Romulan ship in the company of the equally distraught Uhura. They haunted the transporter room together. Both of them could justify their presence: Uhura as the communications expert, who would try to reestablish contact whenever the field put out by the Romulans' drill ceased, and McCoy standing ready as doctor in case either or both of their partners came back injured. It was possible also that they might rescue Captain Pike, if he still lived.

A moment's warning before Kirk, Pike, and Spock materialized on the transporter pad was barely enough for McCoy to be ready to help support the staggering Pike. He touched Kirk's arm to reassure himself that his lover was all right, eliciting an exhausted but triumphant smile in return, before turning his attention to the injured man.

It would take the better part of an hour for Chapel to get Pike stabilized to the point where McCoy could determine the best course of treatment and begin it. Once he'd seen that she had matters under control, McCoy returned to the bridge. He knew Kirk could well have minor – or even major – injuries that he had neglected to report because he felt something else was more urgent. McCoy needed to determine for himself that that was not the case.

He missed seeing the final destruction of the Romulan ship, not that he minded. Relief was palpable among the bridge crew that Kirk's rapid thinking, and Scotty's, had saved them from the gravitational pull of the red matter-created black hole. The _Enterprise_ would have to limp back to Earth and Starfleet headquarters for a complete refitting, but they had survived, and triumphed.

Fighting successfully was what captains did. Doctors, thought McCoy with resignation, got to clean up afterward. He made both Kirk and Spock stand down and get some rest, but did not do so himself until he had seen to Pike. Preliminary scans were unpromising; the Centaurian slugs with which the Romulans had tortured Pike were not easily removed. The _Enterprise_ 's medical database was limited. He needed to have access to the far more extensive records maintained by Starfleet. In the meantime, he treated Pike for the pain and sedated him, hoping that a decreased level of response would slow the progress of the nerve damage.

He checked on the progress of the other patients, praised the rest of the medical personnel for all their efforts, and then at last was able to find his own bed and sleep for a few hours.

Kirk was already on the bridge again when McCoy woke. He took the turbolift up and pulled the captain aside.

"We need to talk." He made his voice serious.

Kirk looked surprised, but nodded. "We should be back to Earth in a few more hours, even at the slow speed we're managing. How about after that?"

"All right," said McCoy. "We'll talk when we're home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue differs somewhat from the film; my rationale being that personal memory is untrustworthy. Chapter title taken from Joan Jett's "I Hate Myself for Loving You."


	26. Heart of the Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk and McCoy finally get a chance to talk out what's been going on.

If success and honor were what Kirk had wanted, he had them now in fullest measure.

The Academy Board had withdrawn the accusation of cheating, to Kirk's relief. He hadn't really thought that the assembly had been called to commend him, as he had intimated to McCoy, but neither had he expected to stand accused. He genuinely felt that his strategy regarding the _Kobayashi Maru_ test demonstrated ingenuity and leadership: if the rules won't let you win, you find a way around them.

Now not only was he no longer under the threat of suspension or expulsion, he'd been promoted. _Seriously_ promoted. To jump from cadet to captain was unheard of. Maybe on a temporary basis, out of necessity, but not as a permanent thing. When he stood before Pike to relieve him as captain of the _Enterprise_ , Kirk didn't know whether he would explode with pride or drown in sympathy for Pike having to give it up.

Then there were the congratulations and honors from various world governments, with President Ranganathan arranging a one-on-one conference. It was recorded, affording Kirk pleasure at the thought that his mother would be able to see it sooner or later.

The cloud in the sky of his triumph was McCoy. Kirk had promised that two of them would talk when they got back to Earth, and he'd meant it, but with everything else going on, it was days and days before Kirk could find time to redeem that promise. Kirk was being fêted until late every night, traveling around the globe. Although McCoy was present for much of it, the Starfleet events anyhow, there was no opportunity to talk alone for the length of time that McCoy seemed to feel necessary.

Kirk checked on the status of the repairs to the _Enterprise_. Scotty's latest report said it would be four more weeks until she was in shape, but Kirk had already realized that the engineer was always pessimistic in his estimates. Whether that was to make himself look good when he beat them or just to allow for the possibility of additional problems, Kirk wasn't sure. He planned to push Scotty to make it three weeks, either way.

There was not much more he could do at the moment, just start going through personnel files and requesting any assignment changes he might want. None of that was urgent, which meant that tonight he and McCoy could talk at last.

If _McCoy_ wasn't busy, that was. He'd managed to patch up Pike for the ceremony, but Kirk knew that McCoy wasn't satisfied with that. He'd been digging around in the medical databases, looking for potential treatments to repair the nerve damage more fully, and perhaps enable Pike to walk again.

Kirk tapped in McCoy's number. He could at least leave a message.

Somewhat to his surprise, McCoy answered.

"McCoy here."

"Bones, it's Jim. I haven't forgotten that I said we'd talk, and I'm free tonight if you are. Want to go out to Ocean Beach after dinner?"

"All right." McCoy's voice was gruff. "Let's not have dinner at the Academy cafeteria, though. There will probably be people who recognize you anywhere you go now, thanks to those news broadcasts, but..."

"You can't stand to see me being hero-worshiped by the other cadets?" Kirk joked. "It's pretty awful, I agree. Sure, we can find someplace off campus. I'll meet you in front of the library at six o'clock."

McCoy said he'd be there, and hung up.

Kirk set his own phone down slowly. He thought about all that had happened in the past few weeks, the way that McCoy had first come up with a plan to get Kirk on board the _Enterprise_ when he wasn't authorized to, but then had failed to back him up more than once afterward. Kirk didn't understand what was going on in McCoy's head to make him act the way he had, but he hoped tonight's conversation would let him find that out.

They ate spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread at a little Italian place in the Castro district, sharing a bottle of Chianti between them. The wine was not nearly enough to make Kirk drunk, just enough to put him in a happy mood. He sang under his breath afterward as they waited for a bus.

"You're off key," McCoy said.

Kirk grinned at him and took his hand, determined not to lose this good mood. "Who cares?"

McCoy shrugged and didn't answer.

Kirk rolled his eyes. Luckily the bus they wanted pulled up just then. Once they were aboard, he said, "One thing I'll miss being out in space: the ocean."

"The waves are soothing," McCoy agreed.

"If I'd been born, oh, three hundred years ago, I'd have wanted to go to sea," said Kirk. "Explore the unexplored. There were still places where they might yet discover new lands, then. Well, maybe a bit longer ago than that. I think I'd have liked that sort of roaming life."

"What's the old saying about sailors? A woman in every port?" said McCoy.

"Yeah, I've heard that," said Kirk, beginning to guess what had been bothering McCoy.

The bus rumbled up to their stop, and they got off, walking into the park and down to their usual spot near the ruins of the Sutro Bath House. It was windy, and Kirk could taste the salt in the air. McCoy stood silent, his arms wrapped around himself. Kirk found a handy rock and sat down.

"All right, you wanted to talk, so let's talk. There's no one else around and we have all the time we need."

Still facing away from Kirk, McCoy said in a muffled voice, "The night before the last time you took the _Kobayashi Maru_ test. What happened?"

Kirk blinked. "I studied for the test, and then there was a Xenolinguistics club meeting."

"And then?"

 _Shit._ That made it certain what was bothering McCoy. How had he heard about what happened? But the real question was, how could Kirk explain what had happened, and that it hadn't really _meant_ anything, without sounding like he was making excuses?

"When the meeting was over, Gaila invited me over. I was nervous about the test and I needed something to distract me, so I accepted." Kirk stood up and stepped around McCoy, forcing the other man to look at him. "Bones, I _swear_ that's all it was. Nothing much happened; some kissing, a little groping, yeah, but that was it before Uhura showed up and threw me out. If I didn't say anything about it, it was because there was an awful lot else going on just then; first the _Kobayashi Maru_ , then that stupid assembly, then the Romulan attack. That's all. I wasn't deliberately trying to keep secrets from you."

"Okay... but what if Uhura _hadn't_ turned up and thrown you out? Would you have had sex with Gaila?"

"I..." Kirk swallowed. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. I was enjoying what we were doing, I admit that. But in the end it _didn't_ happen, for whatever reasons." Curiosity got the better of him then. "How did you find out, anyway?"

"Uhura." McCoy bit out the name. "I thought... from the way you'd been talking about us, about getting the computer to treat us like a married couple for assignment purposes, I thought that meant more than it did."

"It means a lot." Kirk forced himself to stay calm. "Look, okay, I'm sorry. I really am. I made a mistake in going back to Gaila's room without thinking about how you'd feel. However uncomfortable it made me to have you pushing me towards a commitment I'm not sure I'm ready to make," he saw McCoy's lips part as if to say something, and hurried on, "maybe you didn't see it as pushing but that's how it felt to me. Anyhow, even if I was annoyed with you about that, I shouldn't have dealt with it by seeing if I could still be interested in a woman." He tried a small smile. "Besides, being turned on by an Orion woman isn't exactly a good test for heterosexual status, I don't think."

McCoy looked as though he almost were going to smile back. "Not really," he agreed.

For all his momentary softening, McCoy's shoulder was stiff and unyielding when Kirk touched him.

"Look," said Kirk, "I understand why you're mad at me. I do. But can we talk this out? You know I've asked for you to be continued as chief medical officer on the _Enterprise_. If you're not going to be comfortable with that, though, if you want a different assignment..." He shrugged, acting as casually as he could manage, trying to fight off the fear that McCoy might do exactly that.

McCoy sighed. "I don't know, Jim. A ship is such a small world; no matter how discreet we might be, if we're a couple, everyone will know it, and if you were to have sex with anyone else – no matter how meaningless it might be to you – everyone would know. I'm not sure I could handle that. You understand what I'm saying?"

Kirk did. McCoy was asking for, if not actual marriage, at the very least a promise of exclusivity. He wasn't honestly sure if he was ready for that."Come here." He sat down again.

With evident reluctance McCoy sat beside him. The warmth of McCoy's leg next to his own was reassuring, even though Kirk couldn't at the moment manage to look at his face.

"I'm gonna tell you the truth, Bones. Hear me out before you say anything."

He felt rather than saw McCoy's nod.

"I love you. I have to say that first off, because it's important that you know I mean that. I love you as a lover, but I love you as a friend even more, and if we can't figure out a way to make this work between us romantically, I'll do whatever it takes to keep that friendship alive. The thing is, I spent a lot of years hopping from one bed to another. I'm not trying to say that was a good thing; what I'm saying is that it's not an easy habit to break. Even though I can understand how it makes you feel, and even though I don't _want_ to be the one making you feel that way, it just isn't always easy to remember to stop and think about what I'm doing. So much as I'd like to, I can't promise that I'll never fuck up in the future, that I'll never do anything to hurt you or make you jealous. I just can't _make_ that promise, because I might not keep it. I _can_ promise to try my best not to mess around with anyone else, in any way. I _do_ promise that I'll try my best. But that's all I can do."

Kirk let out his breath and waited.

Finally McCoy said, "Is that all?"

"Yeah. I _can't_ promise not to flirt; that's practically automatic. I don't think I could change it if I tried."

"Probably not," McCoy agreed. "Besides, you wouldn't be Jim Kirk if you did, or not the Jim that I love."

It was a greater relief than Kirk had expected to hear McCoy say that he loved Kirk. "Okay, so..."

"I'm thinking about it." McCoy was quiet for a while, but his body was less rigid now, which Kirk took to be a good sign.

"Starfleet does have regulations about fraternizing, doesn't it?" McCoy finally said.

"Yeah. Basically if you're an officer, you're not supposed to be involved with any of the enlisted personnel, or with anyone in your direct line of command. So you and I are okay, because medical officers aren't in the chain of command."

"Right." McCoy nodded. "That makes sense. If you're captain, the medical staff would be almost your only choice, then, if you were looking for a romantic partner. All the officers would normally be in the chain of command, your subordinates."

"I suppose so. I never thought about it quite like that," said Kirk.

"You've never been one to pay that much attention to regulations," McCoy pointed out. "Okay. Can you promise me, at least, that while we're on the ship, you'll obey regulations and not do more than flirt with _any_ ship personnel: officers, enlisted, _and_ my medical staff, too?"

" _On_ the ship?"

"Yeah. If you're _off_ the ship... well, I'd obviously _rather_ you didn't do anything then, either, at least not without my knowledge." McCoy paused. "I can't believe I just said that. It sounds like I might give you permission to screw around on me. Well, maybe I would, if I had no choice."

"What if, I don't know, there were some diplomatic business that required me to get physical? Seriously, it's possible. There are plenty of cultures that treat sex far more casually than Earth humans tend to," said Kirk.

"If it's in the line of duty, I can hardly tell you not to, can I?" McCoy's voice was wry. "Yeah, I guess that would have to be an exception as well. I can't interfere with your career. Just don't go _looking_ for those situations."

"Fair enough," agreed Kirk.

He guessed he could live with McCoy's conditions,. McCoy's thigh was still pressed to his, warm, and no longer stiff with tension. Kirk had a momentary vision of that same muscular thigh naked. He laid his hand on McCoy's knee and drew it upward. McCoy chuckled.

"Jim, you horndog."

"Hardly," Kirk protested. "It's been well over two weeks. Not since the day I took the _Kobayashi Maru_ test for the last time, if you remember."

"What, you want to do it right here? Because my roommate is in our room, and I think yours is too, isn't he?"

"Why not? It's a warm night, and we could find a spot that's a little more out of the way and private than this," Kirk said.

"I suppose we could, but I wouldn't be comfortable with that. Not out in the open for anyone to see. You didn't arrange for a tent this time."

"Well, what do you want to do, then?"

McCoy bit his lip. "We could get a hotel room?"

Kirk thought that sounded like an excellent suggestion. He didn't have any appointments until 0900 hours the next morning, and McCoy's official shift wasn't until noon. His research to help Pike was even more flexible.

They walked briskly back to the edge of the park and caught a bus downtown, having agreed to splurge on a really nice place. The clerk didn't bat an eye at the fact that they had no luggage with them, and although he plainly recognized Kirk from all the news coverage Kirk had received, he made no intrusive small talk, simply handing them the key and wishing them a pleasant stay.

"Shit," said Kirk as the room door closed behind them. "I just realized. No lubricant, unless you count that little bottle of complimentary hand lotion."

"I don't," said McCoy firmly. "It might be all right for jacking off, but I don't want it up my ass, thank you very much. I'll go downstairs and see if the lobby shop is still open, or maybe there's a drugstore nearby. Better me than you; too many people would recognize you."

Kirk was already naked when McCoy came back, saying that he had had to go out of the hotel and find a drugstore, but that he had what they needed.

"Excellent," said Kirk. He rubbed a hand over his chin. "They might not have complimentary lube in the bathroom, but I _did_ see a razor, and I think I could use a shave."

McCoy felt his own chin. "Yeah, me too."

They ended up shaving each other, with a certain amount of teasing and horseplay. Kirk liked the way that McCoy's face became intent with concentration as he worked with the razor; he supposed it was probably an expression similar to that McCoy had when he performed surgery, and thought to himself that if McCoy's patients were ever conscious, they must be reassured by it.

The shaving process turned naturally to kissing as they finished. McCoy's arms wrapped around Kirk, holding him close, as Kirk kissed him hungrily. He had missed this. Their estrangement had been brief in terms of actual days, but it had felt longer than it was. Kirk breathed in the clean smell of McCoy's skin and realized he was wearing a goofy smile. McCoy grinned back.

"What's so funny ?"

"Nothing," Kirk said. "I'm just glad to be here with you."

He steered them out of the bathroom, McCoy stumbling once as he was the one walking backward, and over to the enormous bed. Kirk was already hard, ready for anything, but he decided to let McCoy choose what they would do this time.

"I want you inside me, but me on top," McCoy said with only a faint flush. "I don't think you're probably limber enough to suck me off at the same time –"

"No," Kirk interrupted. "A contortionist I'm not."

"Fair enough, I couldn't do it either, so maybe you could suck me off afterward. That okay?"

"Very okay," said Kirk. He fondled McCoy's dick, a wordless promise that he wouldn't forget it. "Want me to lube you up?"

"I'll do it. You watch." McCoy flushed again and explained, "I didn't want to be seen by strangers in the park, but I like it when _you_ watch me."

"I'm happy to do that," said Kirk, and stretched out into a comfortable position on the bed.

McCoy turned so that Kirk would have a better view of his ass. Spreading lube on his fingers, he slipped just his forefinger in to begin with, up to the first knuckle, moving it in tiny circles to coax the tight sphincter to relax.

Kirk watched, touching his own dick idly in a comforting sort of way, as McCoy worked himself open, adding more lube when he reached three fingers. The position was obviously awkward for McCoy, but that just made it more endearingly sexy in Kirk's view. By the time McCoy was ready, Kirk was so hot and bothered that he had to ask McCoy to wait a minute while he got control of himself. When he had, he leaned back against the pillows. McCoy straddled him, and Kirk guided his dick into McCoy's slick passage, groaning as McCoy sank down and fully embraced him.

His heart clenched painfully at the sight of McCoy kneeling there, looking at him with a funny smile on his face, as though he couldn't quite believe that this was real. "Bones," he whispered, pressing a kiss against his fingers and brushing them over the tip of McCoy's dick.

"I love you, Jim," McCoy replied, his eyes shining. He began to move. His legs flexed as they lifted him up a couple of inches, and his balls and dick bobbed and swayed with the movement. Fuck, but he was a gorgeous sight. At that moment Kirk wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, making love, though realistically he knew that he would get bored pretty quickly, even of sex with Bones.

"God." McCoy's eyes were half closed. "You feel so good."

Kirk thought about joking that McCoy didn't need to call him "God," thought better of it, then thought better of _that_ and said it. McCoy snorted.

"Jim Kirk, the only man in the galaxy with an ego so big that at any moment, it's gonna collapse in on itself to create its own black hole."

"You know it," Kirk said smugly. "Of course, that's why I like having you around, to keep me in touch with reality. Among other things."

"Like what other things?"

"Like – uh – like what you're doing right now."

Kirk didn't know quite what exactly McCoy _was_ doing, only that it felt fantastic. "I think you should know that I'm gonna come awfully fast if you keep that up," he warned.

"Okay." McCoy lessened his motions, and Kirk could breathe more or less normally again. "Better?"

"Yeah."

McCoy kept up the slower rocking for a while, his eyes fixed on Kirk's face. "So you think the two of us can make it out there together?" he finally asked.

Kirk knew better than to give a joking response this time. Sex, yes; their relationship, not so much. "I hope so," he said honestly. "It won't be easy for either of us."

"No, it won't. Worth trying though."

"Absolutely worth trying." Kirk took a breath. "You know I don't have much experience at this kind of thing. Not that you're a man, but the whole serious relationship bit. Whereas you, well..."

"I had Jocelyn," McCoy finished. "Which is hardly an advertisement for my qualifications in that area. She's a bitch, but I did choose to marry her, way back when, and I wasn't always the best husband, either."

"Someday, maybe, you'll get to try again." Kirk said that in a rush, before he could think better of it. "The idea kind of scares me, I admit, but maybe someday."

McCoy had stopped moving as they spoke, but now he started again, faster than before. "I know you wouldn't say that unless you meant it."

Kirk shook his head. "I mean it." He did, although it terrified him, too, and he was glad that McCoy's ass was tight and hot and slick around him, because he _really_ needed the distraction of pleasure just then.

And pleasure he had, because McCoy leaned forward and kissed him and pinched his nipples.

"God, Bones – so fucking good," Kirk choked out. Sweat broke out on his forehead as McCoy twisted each nipple further. "Don't – don't," he begged.

McCoy relaxed his grip. "Don't what?"

"Don't _stop_ ," said Kirk. "Whatever you do, _don't stop_."

"I won't," McCoy promised, and pinched harder again. His ass squeezed Kirk's dick at the same moment.

That did it. Kirk swore he could feel the orgasm rise all the way from his toes before he erupted into McCoy. His eyes squeezed shut as the tremors shook him. McCoy rocked back and forth a few more times, milking out the last of Kirk's come.

"Now you," said Kirk when he could speak again. As soon as McCoy moved off him, Kirk's mouth closed hungrily around his dick. It still surprised him sometimes that he liked doing this so much, as much as he ever enjoyed eating pussy. But he did. He liked the smell and the taste and the hardness under his tongue, and most of all he liked the way that McCoy enjoyed it, the way that he was able to make McCoy feel so much pleasure. He pressed a forefinger into McCoy's still loosened hole, titillating the ring of muscle. McCoy gave a deep groan.

" Jim..."

Kirk eased up, wanting to draw this out, but he was unable to resist temptation for long and soon was licking and sucking with undiminished enthusiasm. McCoy's balls were warm and heavy against his tongue as he took them one at a time into his mouth, lapping and tugging at the loose skin. He nuzzled back up McCoy's shaft, somewhat sorry now that he had shaved since it meant he couldn't use his cheek to rasp the tender skin: not to hurt, just to stimulate. He used his tongue instead.

McCoy groaned his name again. Kirk plunged down on the shaft until he choked, backing off only to try again until he gagged with it, but anything McCoy wanted, he would try to give. Bitter cream filled his mouth unexpectedly. He had to move and swallow, coming back afterward to lick McCoy clean. There, anyhow; Kirk's own semen still oozed from McCoy's ass, but he wasn't going to tongue-clean that.

Kirk wiped his fingers against the sheets and crawled up to spoon against McCoy, the other man's muscular arms pulling him into a warm embrace.

"You gonna do that for me when I'm captaining the _Enterprise_?" Kirk murmured, yawning.

McCoy chuckled. "Seeing that technically you already _are_ captain, I guess I am, as long as you promise the same in return."

"I will."

Kirk lay there, for the moment at peace with himself. His mind raced back over the three years they had known each other, and especially over the last months, since their friendship had become so much more.

That was the heart of the matter, he finally decided. It wasn't so important that they had great sex, nor that McCoy was another man; what mattered was the friendship, the trust that they had in each other. He realized in a way he hadn't before just how hurt McCoy had been by what had seemed to him Kirk's casual infidelity – to McCoy it was a breach of that trust, not just a meaningless physical release.

He turned his head to tell McCoy that he now understood, but McCoy was asleep, exhaling rasping breaths that were not quite snores.

Kirk grinned to himself and flipped the sheet over them. There would be plenty of time to tell McCoy tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever it seemed best. Barring some unforeseen mishap, they would have the five years of the _Enterprise_ 's initial mission, and after that? Even Old Spock didn't know what the future might hold for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again to aome for suggesting the title, and thanks to everyone who's come along on this ride with me.


End file.
